Disclosure
by commandocucumber
Summary: Post-Collector R&R fic. When Shepard finds his allies dwindling, and the council still denying his claims, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Features Spectre Ashley Williams, and Oriana Lawson sub-plots.  indefinitely Postponed due to ME3's ending. Kinda killed the muse :/
1. Chapter 1

Disclosure 1

John Shepard was pulled from peaceful sleep by the sound of an Asari radio crackling to life. The commentator was ranting about Solheim Industries Colonization Projects, or something… The Commander grimaced and opened his eyes to stare at the calming mauve ceiling of the honeymoon suite. No matter where he was in the universe, it seemed that he would never escape the demons of commercial enterprise.

A slender hand, so perfect it could have been sculpted from alabaster, reached across his vision. A blue aura surrounded it for a moment as it clenched into a fist. Shepard heard the radio crumple up, spitting sparks. He chuckled, "They're going to make us pay for a new one."

The woman's soft Australian accent filled his ears, "I do recall specifying that we weren't to be disturbed..."

Shepard turned his head to the side and smiled at his executive officer. The brunette beauty was lying beside him, lost in the soft mattress and Asari bed sheets. The Zesmeni Hotel boasted the finest experience available for citadel visitors, and Shepard had spared no expense. He watched the woman silently, drinking in her soft curves. The grandiose sight of the serpent nebula through the window behind her only helped. He realized this was one of the rare occasions when her hair wasn't absolutely perfect. It was messy and tangled, scattered in all directions. He brushed some of it aside to reveal her face. Her eyes were half shut, battling sleep. Feeling his hand gently brushing her face, she sighed contentedly and let her eyes shut.

"Do we have a plan for the day?" he asked, letting his hand tour a little. She didn't seem to mind.

"Sleep." She mumbled, sinking back into the twilight zone.

Shepard couldn't blame her; the bed was soft, the suite dark and peaceful. For the first time since Shepard had awoken in a Cerberus laboratory, there was no immediate goal in sight. The collectors had been defeated, the Normandy's crew saved, and the base destroyed. The time had come for some well-earned R&R

"I have to see the council later." He told her.

"Mmhmm."

He took a deep breath, "I don't think you should come along."

Her eyes opened slowly, revealing her sparkling blue irises. Her expression wasn't one of anger, but of caution and curiosity, "Because of my employment with Cerberus?"

"You quit." He told her, "I know, but the council will still hold it against you."

She leaned forward and pressed her silken, delicate lips to his own, capturing him in a soft kiss, "Why do you keep trying to convince them, John?"

"Because when the Reapers come, I want to be able to say 'I told you so'." He answered between kisses.

Miranda laughed, pulling away, "I'm sure the Turian councilor will still tell you he's dismissed the claim."

"That's when I'm going to punch him in the face." Shepard replied, pulling her back, "Or shoot him, possibly."

"So if not me, then who?"

"Samara, and Mordin, probably."

"And Garrus?"

He smiled, holding her close, "That goes without saying, doesn't it?"

"Clever. One member from each of their own species. They may listen to Samara, at least." She sighed, "Or maybe not…"

"Probably not." Shepard murmured sourly, running his hands through her hair, "But I still have to try."

"Well get to it, then. I'll meet with you later for breakfast."

She watched as the scarred soldier reluctantly slipped out of the bed and onto the plush carpeted floor. The skin on his chest and back was covered in scars of different types. Burns, gunshot wounds, and other lines. All of them had happened after Project Lazarus. She wondered vaguely what he'd looked like before. She knew Elysium had left him with more than a few nasty scars, but those had disappeared after the first Normandy's explosion. Now he had different scars, and when she looked hard enough ,she could just barely make out the orange glow of the sub-dermal robotics and artificial elements Cerberus had needed to revive him.

Miranda herself was an incredibly beautiful woman. Her father had designed her to be. Yet John Shepard was quite a handsome man in his own right. He had blond hair, a strong jaw, hard blue eyes, and a well-muscled figure. Unlike Jacob, Shepard's was not the musculature of a man who believed in keeping himself looking his best, but rather the musculature of a man used to exhausting physical labor.

He dressed himself in a simple black suit with a gray tie, showing obvious discomfort with the light civilian costume. Miranda had to admit, it looked strange on him. She had only ever seen him in either combat armour, or a Cerberus uniform. Civilian clothing did not fit his presence, nor his demeanor. He hardly looked like the same man who had stood toe to toe with the reaper larvae not three weeks before.

Shepard paused at the door and gave her languishing form one last look of longing.

"Go." Miranda ordered.

Shepard nodded and disappeared, probably to track down the other three team members. She felt a small amount of anger at being left behind, but couldn't deny his reasoning. He was going to have time enough just trying to juggle the shady reputation of Mordin, and the rebellious Garrus Vakarian.

Miranda activated her Omnitool, lighting up the large bed in an orange glow. She pressed a few of the holographic buttons. Immediately, the apartment filled with the sweet, slow swells and long tones of the adagio movement of Neilson's fifth. She rose and retrieved her robe from the nearby chair upon which it had been hastily and haphazardly deposited the previous night.

The bathroom of the honeymoon suite was an enormous cathedral-like space complete with showers, a Jacuzzi, and plenty of counter space. White pristine towels hung were folded perfectly and fit neatly into little shelves along one wall. Another shelf held at least fifty different types of soaps, bath salts, oils, and 'cleansing products' as the advertisements liked to call them. John really hadn't spared any expense. Knowing him, he had probably talked the hotel into giving him a fairly sizeable discount. The suite's architecture was undeniably Asari, with soft curved walls, subtle, yet beautiful colors, and clean surfaces.

The former Cerberus operative turned the taps and let steam fill the room, fogging the mirrors. She ascended the steps up to the Jacuzzi and hung her bathrobe on a handy hook. Then she descended into the hot water, enjoying the music, and letting the steam clear her sinuses. It was a complete and extravagant change from the stale recycled water which spurted from the plain showerheads aboard the Normandy, although that was probably the point.

When she'd had enough of soaking, Miranda had a cool shower with a few of the more traditional soaps and shampoo. The sudden change between hot and cold water left her feeling raw and thoroughly clean. With practiced hands, she wrapped her long black hair in a towel and set it in an elegant beehive-like knot atop her head.

She donned the pristine white robe, stepped back into the maim section of the suit, and tried not to feel guilty about her current conditions. Considering the types of lives she'd seen people lead on Omega and Tuchanka, there was plenty of reason for guilt.

The main room made up of several different sections, each portioned off by subtle purple curtains which could be open and drawn closed at will. There was a luxurious sitting area with a minibar, a kitchenette in one large alcove, and the unnecessarily large bed in another. Miranda crossed to the minibar, feeling the thick carpet between her toes. It reminded her a little too much of her father's home. She didn't blame John. He was trying his best to reward both of them for a job well done, but Miranda experiences with this sort of high living had never been happy ones. She grabbed an empty wine glass and poured herself a drink.

A thin data tablet on the nightstand beside her bed beeped. Miranda picked it up and entered her passcode. A message came up:

OR: Guess where I am!

Miranda smiled and typed in a reply:

ML: No idea.

OR: Rly?

ML: Really. I've been out of the loop for a little while.

It had taken a good two weeks to get the Normandy up and running. They'd been stranded on the wrong side of the Omega 4 relay all that time, completely cut off from the rest of the galaxy.

OR: The Citadel!

Miranda paused a moment, sipping her drink. She frowned and tapped the keys.

ML: So you made the list, then. I told you politics and history wasn't so boring.

OR: Yeah. It paid off I guess. U said u were out of the loop? Where were u?

Miranda sighed, remembering the giant Reaper Larvae. She still sometimes awoke seeing nothing but its glowing eyes bearing down on her. She could still remember the helplessness she'd felt, sliding down the platform, and watching John leap after her without any hesitation. She remembered the fight to get that far. The intensity and the gunfire. The fear… her fingers found the scar on her abdomen, courtesy of a lucky collector.

ML: Classified.

OR: Miri!

ML: I'm sorry.

OR: Where R U now?

ML: Guess.

OR: Floating around Omega?

ML: Try a little closer.

OR: RANDA!

ML: The Citadel.

OR: R u serious? Omg thts amazing we gotta hang!

ML: My thoughts exactly.

* * *

**So I guess you could call this a sequel to Watchdog. It's an R&R story, or at least it'll start that way. **

**For those of you waiting patiently for the next chapter of Fallout 3: Aqua Vitae, don't worry, it's coming. I've run into a bit of a roadblock in Sarah's section and I'm trying to sort through it. I made the mistake of getting into a little show called Chuck. And also Mass effect 2 again… obviously...**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclosure 2

John Shepard walked purposefully across the long arching bridges spanning the Presidium, his mind ablaze. He could hear the whispers following his small band of misfits, but he chose to ignore them. Neither Garrus, Samara, Mordin, nor himself, fit the chic, cultured atmosphere It had been close to three months since his last contact with the council, and they had not parted on good terms.

He found Councilor Anderson standing outside his office door, looking severely harassed. He spotted his former protégé and waved. They shook hands professionally, but Anderson's face was troubled, "Shepard. You didn't tell me you were coming."

"I thought you liked surprises." John replied, smiling at the older black man. He could feel Samara and Thane standing behind him. Garrus was at his shoulder, "If the look on your face is any judge, the council is in session."

Anderson gave him a worried look, "They've- we've just inducted the second human Spectre. John, you've got to tread carefully."

Shepard stared.

Anderson rubbed his eyes. He looked more tired than Shepard had ever seen, "A few things have been happening behind the scenes, Shepard. A report was recently published by a Salarian doctor named Chorban. He stated that the Citadel may be far older than the Protheans. A few smart people have gotten hold of pieces of Sovereign. Things are moving Shepard, but you're the most vocal. They want to take you down."

"They can take a number." Shepard replied, passing his friend and entering the human embassy. He was immediately greeted by the sight of three holographic figures. A Turian, an Asari, and a Salarian, all three wearing shocked expressions, yet John's attention was focused entirely on the human woman standing in front of them, her arms crossed defiantly, a nervous expression on her features.

John recognized her. He'd seen her face many times before. Along with Garrus Vakarian's, it had accompanied him all the way from Eden Prime up the outside citadel tower. It had plagued his dreams right up to his first encounter with the Collectors on Horizon.

"Williams…" Garrus growled.

"Shepard," the Asari ambassador blurted out, "This is unscheduled. We hadn't received word that you were on the Citadel."

"Not our fault." Garrus replied.

"Skipper, Garrus…" Williams greeted them cautiously.

"Operations Chief Williams." Garrus grunted in response.

"Second-Lieutenant." Anderson corrected, brushing by them. He halted halfway between the council, and his former protégé.

Shepard still hadn't said a word. She had let her dark hair down from its usual bun, and something was different about her. It was in her posture and expression. Something important had happened to her in the intervening months. She was still beautiful, though she couldn't hold a candle to Miranda. As he looked upon her, Shepard fought down the feelings of hurt and loss. His eyes spotted the Spectre emblem, causing a new feeling to overtake the others: Betrayal.

"Still bleed marine green, huh?" he asked through gritted teeth, "I'm sure your grandfather would be proud."

The woman scowled, "Don't you dare pull that on me, skipper. Not after you jumped into bed with Cerberus."

Garrus made a quiet noise which might have been a snicker. Shepard ignored him, "At least I didn't go around making self-righteous speeches."

"Enough!" the Turian ambassador cut in, "Commander Shepard, your activities in the terminus systems, your questionable alliances with such terrorist organizations like Cerberus, and threats such as the Rachni have caused the council to question your ability to represent humanity. Second Lieutenant Williams has been granted Spectre status because she is here to investigate you and those under your command. She will bring her findings back to us and we will decide whether or not you are fit for duty."

"Those alliances are what happens when the people I _should _be working with continually ignore my warnings and white-wash my efforts." Shepard replied coldly.

Mordian leaned towards him and whispered quietly, "Understand you brought Samara and I here to help. Unlikely council will agree to hear us. Preconceptions and desired outcomes interfering with ability to see contradictory outcomes." He sniffed loudly, "Made same mistake with Maelon on Tuchanka."

Samara had been watching the proceedings with the air of an unsprung trap. Her biotics glowed faintly when the council suggested investigation. She said, "I agree. Their eyes are closed."

"A Justicar?" the Asari ambassador studied Samara's calm form, "How did you manage to convince a Justicar to join you, Shepard?"

"He assisted me in hunting down an Ardat Yakshi." Samara answered, her soothing tones calming the frayed nerves of everyone present, "In return I offered what services I could in his fight against the Reapers."

"so you believe in them, then?" the Asari asked.

The Turian councilor contributed a derisive snort.

"I do." Samara answered evenly. She turned to the Asari ambassador, "You are well aware of the Justicar code. We cannot lie when it would put innocent lives at risk."

"I am aware."

"The Reapers are a very real threat." The Justicar told them, "That is the truth. If you do not move now, all will be lost."

"I don't believe it." The Turian announced dismissively. His Asari companion looked less sure.

"We have dismissed that claim." The Turian told them.

"I'm well aware." Shepard turned to his companions, "I'm sorry for dragging you out here. This was a mistake."

Ashley shook her head, "You've changed, John."

"Dying does that to a person." Shepard replied icily. He turned his gaze upon the council, "So does being hung out to dry. You haven't even given me the benefit of the doubt…"

"But we have." The Asari corrected, "We reinstated your Spectre status. I'm am sorry, Shepard, but it's the best we can do."

"Well it's not good enough." Shepard replied, "and billions of people will die because of that."

"Then give us proof." The Salarian ordered.

"I saw one with my own eyes." Shepard told them, "During the three weeks I was absent. We tracked the Collectors through the Omega 4 Relay and destroyed their station. They were building a human reaper. That's why they were abducting colonists."

"What?" Anderson stared at him, slack-jawed. Ash was doing the same. She came forward to stand beside the human councilor.

The Asari turned to Samara, "You saw this… creature?"

"Not with my own eyes, no." Samara answered truthfully, "But given the scale and complexity of their operations, it is plausible. I believe Shepard, and vouch for him."

"If she didn't see it, then I don't believe it." The Turian councilor snapped, "All we have is Shepard's word."

"I saw it too." Garrus spoke up, his eyes burning holes through his Turian counterpart.

"Your word is a useless as Shepard's." the Turian replied.

"Were there any other witnesses?" the Salarian asked, directing his attention to Mordin.

"Indeed." The Professor spoke quickly, "Miranda Lawson. Former Cerberus Operative. Loyal to Shepard and Normandy. Trustworthy."

"Why isn't she here?" the Asari asked.

"If you're not going to listen to me or Garrus, or an Asari Justicar, why on earth would you listen to her. It'd give you one more excuse to ignore me." John explained.

"Perhaps we wouldn't ignore you if you didn't tell such tall tales, Shepard." The Turian Councilor snapped.

"Shut up." Shepard replied, turning to Garrus, "At least we've got the Rachni and the Krogan on our side." He let out a humorless chuckle, "And the Geth."

"The _Geth_?" the Turian demanded in horror.

Shepard turned to him one last time, "That's what happens when you give me so few options. I saved _your_ lives. I sacrificed human lives and human ships to do it, not to mention risking losing the battle with Sovereign." He eyed all of them, "I'm beginning to regret that decision. You're three of the most useless people I've ever encountered." He turned and walked past Anderson, murmuring, "Maybe four…"

Garrus, Samara, and Mordin followed.

The council stared at the door, then directed their attentions to Anderson and the newly anointed Spectre. "Is he going to cause a problem?"

" He's just frustrated." Anderson assured them, "You haven't been giving his warning a fair amount of thought, and I'm inclined to agree with him on that fact."

"Miranda Lawson…" the Salarian mused, "Spectre Williams?"

Chief Williams brought herself to attention and saluted respectfully.

"I want you to talk to this Cerberus Operative." The Salarian ordered.

"_Without_ Shepard's knowledge." The Turian added.

"Yes. Talk to her and find out what she knows."

"You don't really believe this either, do you?" the Turian demanded derisively.

"I do, for the record." She replied coldly, "I saw everything that he did, except for the Prothean visions, and I believe in the Reapers. The question is whether or not John is still the best man to lead the fight."

"To that end, talk to the rest of his crew including the Cerberus Operative." The Asari commanded, "We need to know if Shepard's judgment has been compromised. If you find evidence pointing in either direction, bring it to us."

Ashley saluted and marched out.

* * *

**Not sure where this is going yet, but it should be fun.**


	3. Chapter 3

The bottle of wine was half-empty. Miranda drained her glass and continued to type into the data tablet, resisting the urge to giggle. The wine was strong stuff, and she had been drinking it alone. It was beginning to show. She adjusted the pillow against which she was resting, and read her sister's reply:

OR: Yes, Danner finally asked me out. We were actually planning to go visit the presidium 2morrow.

ML: Excellent! I'm on the presidium. Maybe I could drop by for a visit? I'd love to meet him.

OR: love it! I heard of a bar called Flux. 2morrow at noon. Is Shepard coming? Tell me about him.

Miranda set her glass down on the table and thought for a minute, trying to figure out where to start. Something her sister could relate to…

ML: What is there to tell? His life's story is public knowledge. Caught in a slaver assault on Mindoir. Fought them off. Survived a Thresher Maw attack. Saved Eden Prime. Killed Saren. Saved the Citadel…

OR: Not that! I've already read all that. Tell me what he's actually like. What does he do? What are his favorite vids? That kind of stuff! Personal stuff!

ML: You'll just have to find out.

OR: Miri!

ML: What? It's rude to snoop.

OR: You knew Danner broke his leg when he was fourteen!

Miranda paused, staring at the small glowing screen,

ML: Good point. Do you remember those old Alliance recruitment vids of him?

OR: the creepy Human Ideal ones?

ML: Yeah. He's actually like that, except not to the same extent. He's still a human being, not a god like they made him out to be.

OR: What do you mean?

Miranda sighed, running through her memories of the last six months. She recalled the hours after the destruction of the collector base. She had gone up to check on John, and found him sitting in darkness and booze, along with his closest friend, Garrus. They had not been drinking to celebrate, nor to wallow in self-pity, but to reflect on the herculean task which had been set before them. _Two reapers down, billions to go…_

ML: I don't know… he's a…a white knight, I guess. If you're on his good side he'll support you and help you in any way he can. But he's under a lot of pressure, and it shows sometimes.

OR: Shows how? Does he get angry?

ML: Not at me, and not at any of his allies. But people caught on the other end of his sniper rifle don't last long.

OR: That's…grim.

Miranda stared at the two words. She could see where this conversation was heading, and didn't like the view. Things would be Okay though, as long as they kept on Shepard.

ML: He's a soldier. It's his job.

OR: And what's your job on his ship?

ML: I'm the XO. I can't give you any details. You know that.

OR: And so you stay on the ship?

ML: most of the time. Part of my job is to write mission reports.

OR: You're dodging. Stop it.

ML: It's classified.

OR: Really, Miri, you're going to fall back on that?

ML: the only reason I waited until Illium to introduce myself was to keep you out of all of that. I would've waited longer but Shepard convinced me to talk to you. It's not something I want you to know about, so don't pry.

She stared at the message, and immediately regretted sending it. That was the wine speaking. If she were sober, she would have found a better response. An out of some kind… seconds ticked by. First five, then ten, then fifteen. Thirty… A full minute passed before Oriana's response popped up on the screen.

OR: If it wasn't for him you wouldn't have talked to me at all?

ML: I'm sorry. Can we please move on?

OR: No. I want to know why I wouldn't have been allowed to get to know my sister.

ML: I wanted you to have a peaceful, normal life, which is not something I've ever had.

OR: do you regret knowing me now?

ML: of course not! You're the only family I actually have, Oriana. I'm sorry I waited as long as I did. I was just trying to protect you. I was doing what I thought was best!

OR: Protection from what?

ML: I can't tell you that.

OR: MIRANDA!

ML: I'm sorry.

Miranda waited. Once again the seconds ticked by. First five, then ten. Twenty, thirty. A minute, two minutes, five…

She typed in the statement again, and kept waiting. Miranda poured herself another glass of wine. She took a breath and set down the tablet, staring blankly into space. The normally warm colors and curving architecture of the suit seemed almost medically cold.

An unfamiliar beeping sounded from a holo-interface near the door.

"Come in," Miranda called.

John stepped through, looking haggard. His entire demeanor brightened considerably when he spotted her, although it was tempered when he saw her own expression. He kicked off his shoes and made his way over, pausing by the minibar where he snatched up another glass.

He crawled up onto the bed and sat beside Miranda, putting his arm around her shoulder as they both leaned back against the headboard. He leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sensing her anxiety.

"I'm fine." She told him abruptly.

He gently reached over and picked up the tablet, looking over the past few minutes of conversation, "Ungrateful little-"

"John…"

"-sister." Shepard finished, beginning to type, "I was going to say sister."

ML: This is John Shepard. My Favorite vid is _Blasto Saves Christmas_. Now be nice to Miranda. She's done a lot for you, and deserves better than the silent treatment.

He handed it back to her, "White knight, huh? You make me sound like such a badass."

"Do _not_ let that go to your head." Miranda said, reading his message and setting the tablet on the bedside table, "Blasto saves Christmas?"

"Yep."

"What could possess you to want to watch something so mindless?"

"The fact that it's so mindless. That vid is the secret behind my cheery disposition." He told her, running his fingers through her beautiful black locks, "You took a shower?"

She shrugged, "Just for the novelty. Had a soak in the Jacuzzi."

"We have a jacuzzi?" the Spectre demanded, a grin crashing across his face.

She knew exactly where his newfound joy came from; "I got out less than an hour ago. I'm not getting back in, and I don't care how much you beg me."

His grin faded.

"Honestly, John," she shook her head, "Did you even bother to check, or did you simply tell them to give you the best room possible?"

"Actually the hotel owner's daughters were stationed on the Destiny Ascension." Her told her, "She's been waiting two and a half years to repay the favor." He nuzzled the side of her neck, his hot breath sending a small shiver down her spine, "And when I told her I there was a woman involved…"

"You cheap bastard." She teased.

"I couldn't afford this on a dead Spectre's pay. You know that. If it makes you feel any better, I bargained until she caved and gave me the price of a regular room. That wasn't cheap."

He reached down and twitched aside part of her robe to reveal the subtle lines of her glorious abdomen. His thumb found the small oval of scar tissue, "And this perfect woman is defective."

Her elbow found the soft spot below his ribs, "I was planning to have it removed as soon as possible anyway. But if It bugs you that much, I may decide to keep it."

"Keep it." He told her, his voice sounding far away, "It's proof that you got shot by a collector."

She shifted her position so that she could study his face for a moment. He was wearing a troubled look. "I take it the council meeting did not go well?"

His thoughtful frown deepened, "Ashley Williams was there. She's been promoted and given Spectre status just to screw with me."

Shepard's eyes became unfocused, his expression nostalgic, as he immersed himself in memories, some unpleasant, some very pleasant indeed. Miranda watched as an entire chapter of his old life flashed across his face. She made a mental note to ask Garrus Vakarian for details. It wasn't that she didn't trust John, or expected him to fight instead of answer, but he was too close, and some of the memories were quite painful. Especially the last one.

He blinked, coming back to reality, and looked down at her.

"I was just wondering if you'll ever wear that expression when you're thinking of me…" she told him.

"You'd better hope not. This is my 'Ash Williams has broken up with me and is back to cause me many many problems' expression."

"Really? Do you have an expression for me?"

He smiled down at her, his face awash with the subtle glow of affection. Not the blind puppy love which saturated so much of the galaxy's media, but a much more mature version with its own collage of regrets, rough patches, and uncertainties which made up a true relationship.

"This is the 'I'm in love with Miranda Lawson' face." He said, kissing her.

She pushed him away slightly, feeling warmth spread across her cheeks, "The teenager in me is hoping that Ashley Williams will lay her eyes on it one day."

"Petty jealousy? A little low for Miranda Lawson."

"I've been aiming for the top my entire life, John." She reminded him.

The tablet flashed, indicating that another message had arrived. Miranda reached it first and read it. A slow grin spread across her face as she handed the glowing device to Shepard.

OR: this is Danner. Oriana is a little upset right now. Are u THE John Shepard? This is totally awesome! I had a poster of u on my wall when I was 17!

Shepard chuckled, "Shall I answer?"

"I'm curious." Miranda admitted.

ML: Yes it is. The posters were always a bit much, I felt. Anyway look, Miranda wants to talk to her sister. Are we all on for tomorrow at noon?

Or: 1 sec

A few minutes passed, then the reply flashed on-screen.

OR: Definitely! I'll drag Ori out by her heels if I have to.

ML: alright, see you there.

He handed the tablet to Miranda and sighed, putting his hands behind his head, "It's a date, then."

"Yes. We'll need to find you some proper clothes."

"Says the woman who dressed in a skintight outfit with heels…"

"I never heard you complaining."

* * *

**This is quite a bit lighter than most of my stuff. I do have a plan for the thing, but i've wanted to write a Shep/Miri fic for a while now, so R&R is going to be a large part of the story. I'm hoping that there'll be an eventual showdown between Ash and Miri. that would be awsome.**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclosure 4

Ashley carefully walked up to the hotel door. She double-checked that the room number was right, then carefully tapped the holopad. On the far side, a beeping noise alerted the occupant. Fifteen seconds later, Garrus Vakarian opened it. Ashley was witnessing one of the rare moments when the Turian sniper was not wearing his battered blue armour. He was dressed in nondescript grey cloth which did not fit him properly.

The two of them stared at each other, his mandibles twitching methodically.

"I suppose I should have expected this." The Turian reflected.

"I'm just here to talk." The former marine told him firmly.

"What makes you think I want to talk to you? John wasn't the only one you walked out on at Horizon. Granted _he _took it much harder because from his point of view, the two of you had been sleeping together only two months before, but still." He made to close the door, but Ashley's hand struck like a snake and stopped him.

"If I don't give something to the council, they're going to keep doing this to him." She said evenly, "and it's only going to get worse. Eventually he's going to be declared rogue and they're going to try to take him down. Is that what you want?"

The Turian's grey eyes watched her a few moments more, then he moved aside. The Spectre stepped into her old comrade's sparse living quarters. He had taken down most of the hotel's more decorative elements, leaving the single room quite barren. His sniper rifle was dismantled and sitting in pieces on the table.

"How is he?" she asked, genuine concern showing on her face.

"Fine." The Turian replied abruptly.

Ashley sighed, "Garrus, why are you so hostile?"

"Because you're the only one who walked away" Garrus said quietly, "Wrex helped us out when we visited Tuchanka. Liara helped us out when we went to Illium. Neither of them could come with us, but they helped when they could. Tali is on board the Normandy right now assisting with repairs. You? You walked away and moved on while the rest of us kept fighting and kept trying to carry on Shepard's vision."

"I was an alliance marine, Garrus." Ash defended, "Not the daughter of a matriarch, a quarian on a guest, some failed C-Sec investigator, and not some hired mercenary. I had a job to do, and loyalty to more than just Shepard."

"That sure didn't stop you from helping us hijack the Normandy, or from sleeping with him. The only reason anyone even knows your name is because you were riding on his coattails. You still are."

Ashley flinched as if she'd just been slapped.

"What are you looking for, Williams?"

"Proof." She answered, fighting down her slow-boiling anger, "I need to give the council proof that Shepard is still fit to command."

"He is."

"How do you know?"

"Because we just got back from what was supposed to be a suicide mission." Garrus gave her a Turian grin, "We destroyed the Collector's base, and we pulled it off with zero casualties. He brought together the best fighters from every species in the galaxy and somehow made it work."

"Was there really a human reaper?"

"Yes." The Turian winced, reviewing the memories, "Incomplete, but very capable of killing. Shepard and Miranda and I took it down."

"And Cerberus?" the Spectre asked, watching closely.

Garrus' mandibles twitched, "It's been dealt with."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The Turian sighed, "If you're trying to find dirt on Shepard, you're not going to get it here. Every single member of his crew owes him a big one. Some would kill you for asking about it. Take my advice and stop now."

She ignored the warning, "Who is Miranda?"

"A _former _Cerberus operative." Garrus told her, "Now go away."

"How do you know she's not still working for them?"

"Because I saw her quit." The Turian said shortly.

Ashley nodded, "And she and John are…?"

"Go away." Garrus ordered, "Or I'll get our Krogan to remove you."

"I've heard rumors that there's a Geth aboard the Normandy." Ashley persisted, "Is that true?"

"Use your brain, Ash." The Turian snapped, "Do you honestly believe Tali would stand for it?"

"Well you did say he got all the different races to work together…"

"Yes, Asari, Turian, Salarian, Drell, Krogan… but really?" Garrus smiled, "A Quarian and a Geth? Listen to yourself. If he ever managed that, it would _prove _beyond any shadow of a doubt that he's a damned good leader."

"Or it could prove that Tali's gone rogue with the rest of you, and Shepard is working not just with known terrorists, but with the race which destroyed Eden Prime. Either one of those things _by itself_ is grounds for proving he's a traitor."

"Who's the traitor, Ash? The man who's fighting against all odds to save the galaxy from the race of ancient giant sentient god-machines, or the woman who'd sell him out for a council paycheck and a fancy emblem?" he gestured at Ashley's shoulder.

She stood, stone-faced, "Are you done?"

"No," Garrus turned on her furiously, "We were a _team_, Williams; You, me, and Shepard. The three of us took on the universe together. We climbed the Citadel Tower together!" he stood nose-to nose with her, his grey eyes flashing with anger, "You, me and Shepard! We took on Benezia, we took on the Thorian, we took on Saren, and we took on Sovereign. Now you back out, deny everything, and try to take him down?" He chuckled, "I'd rather have my mandibles torn off than help you. You're a traitor to everything we fought for, and everything Kaiden died for! I don't like traitors, and if things were different, the only thing you'd see of me would be a distant muzzle flash."

Ash stared, dumbstruck, "What happened to you, Garrus? Back then, we-"

"What happened back then means nothing now." The Turian snarled, his voice low and sharp like the blade of a saw, "That chapter is closed. It's done. You made sure of that on horizon. You and Shepard, and you and I, are finished. All you are now is just another problem we'll have to deal with before we can face the Reapers."

"But Cerberus is-"

"Cerberus stood by him when everyone else including _me_ had given up! As of now they are the only organization with the balls to give up everything and face the reaper threat head-on, which is more than I can say for you, your Citadel Council or your pansy-ass marine corps."

"Careful!" Ashley warned, her voice shaking with barely contained anger.

"Go back to the council chambers and give that Turian a nice wet sloppy kiss on the ass, would you?" Garrus requested venomously.

The Spectre looked for a moment as if she were going to hit him, but she took a breath and walked away instead.

Garrus stared angrily at the door, regretting his harsh words. It was a mistake, he knew, to provoke the woman, but at that moment, the universe was just a little too ridiculous for him to play the diplomat.

He fired off a quick warning message to Shepard, and went back to cleaning his sniper rifle.

* * *

"That is… old fashioned." Miranda said, eyeing John. She was seated with her back to the apartment door, and was facing the subtle hues of the Serpent nebula against which Shepard was silhouetted. He had somehow managed to find a civilian outfit which looked like it belonged on him, but it had taken most of the morning and the previous afternoon. The clothing was nothing fancy, and nothing anyone high-brow would wear. It was simple and workman-like, and it suited him very well. Shepard's build and face, though handsome, were battered and scarred beyond his years. He wasn't grizzled, but he had very obviously seen action. The simple plain clothes of a dock worker or tradesman suited him far better than those of a sleek, silver-tongued, fresh-faced political animal.

The highlight was a simple jacket, it's colour-scheme floating somewhere between dark brown and pitch black. The cut was very much that of a military uniform, with straight lines, broad shoulders, and simple stitching. It fit him like a glove. Underneath he had a simple white shirt, with gray cargo pants.

She whirled her finger in a slow circle. He obeyed, rotating slowly. "Very nice." She rose from her plush chair and pulled gently on the front of his jacket, straightening it out. She folded down the thin collar, giving him a slightly more formal air, then came to a halt as her hand brushed the area just below his left armpit. She very carefully reached underneath the jacket, undid a light strap, and pulled out an M-3 "Predator" heavy pistol.

She held the weapon up and raised one slender, quizzical eyebrow with it.

"I've made too many enemies in recent years to go anywhere public without being armed." He explained, "If all goes well, neither of them will even know it was there. If all doesn't go well, we'll be glad to have it."

"You think any merc group would try to take you out in a crowded bar?"

He shrugged, "My gut is telling me to take it. I listen to my gut."

She examined him for a few more seconds, then gave up and handed back the pistol; his gut instincts had proven almost supernaturally good at sensing trouble. Setting an ambush for John Shepard was next to impossible, as many unfortunate enemies had found.

"Anything else I should know about? Have you an assault rifle jammed down the front of your trousers?" Her brain caught up with her mouth and she glared at him, daring him to open his mouth.

He kept it shut and just smiled instead. Somehow _that_ was even worse. The look she gave him was so dry it could have turned grapes into raisins, but that fact seemed to amuse him all the more. His grin faded slightly as the seconds ticked by. When he opened his mouth, she knew it wasn't to spout a joke, but to ask a more serious question, "Where do you want me to draw the line with your sister, Miri?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean how much does she know about her own past, and about what you've been doing?

"She doesn't. She knows she was adopted, and she knows we share the same DNA." Miranda replied, "But she doesn't know any more than that, and I don't want that to change yet."

"She _is _a grown woman." John pointed out, playing the devil's advocate, "She could probably handle at least a part of it."

Miranda rounded on him quite suddenly, causing him to recoil, "Does she have any combat training? Martial arts? Offensive biotics? Would she think to check a room for bugs?" Miranda relented slightly, "I'm not sure she's ever fired a weapon before. I don't want her involved in this part of my life; she doesn't have the training or the mindset. The less she knows, the better."

"It's your call, Miri." He said meekly, "I was just…"

"I know." She gave him a kiss, "Don't worry."

Shepard's omnitool flashed and he glanced down at it.

_Williams on warpath. Get Miri get out._

_-G_

"Let's get going."

"We have an hour." Miranda replied, curiously.

"Maybe I'd like to spend a little more time out on the town with you." John suggested, his arm snaking around her slim waist. He was gifted with another dry look as the woman activated her own Omnitool. Without warning, his flashed on and blinked out again.

"Hey!" he protest, "Did you just…?"

"I've been reading you messages since the beginning, John. Get over it." She murmured, scanning Garrus' warning, "And I'm not afraid of Ashley Williams."

"Neither am I," he responded, "But I'm not in the mood to deal with her right now."

"In that case, let's get going."


	5. Chapter 5

Miranda paced impatiently back and forth across the hallway outside of Flux. Thankfully the bar was not a very popular place to be at noon in the middle of the week. People wandered in and out in groups of two or three, most of them probably going to try their odds on the upper mezzanine gambling area. When Shepard had poked his head in, he discovered that lower floor itself was almost completely empty, the dance floor barren and dark. The music playing over the speakers was soft and subtle; the sort of thing one could hold a conversation above. He had to admit, he much preferred the midday version of Flux to the midnight version, which was crowded and noisy.

"Where is she?" Miranda demanded for the third time.

"Relax, would you? You're wearing a hole in the floor." Shepard said in calming tones. The comforting feel of the M-3 Pistol concealed beneath his jacket put him at ease. He was leaning against the sleek white wall, arms crossed, head down, eyes shut. It was a trick he'd learned during his days as an N7 marine. The Waiting Pose. He'd draw himself inwards and shut the world out. If he did it right, his internal clock shut down and hours could slip by like minutes. He made a mental note to teach Miranda the trick.

"It's a quarter past, Shepard!" the brunette announced, "She said she'd be here at noon. It's a quarter past."

He ran his eyes down the woman's glorious body. She had elected to wear a modest blue dress, which of course looked amazing on her. To Shepard's mild disappointment, she had elected to do without the high-heeled shoes. But he could certainly understand her desire to take a break.

"She's running on the twenty-year-old's clock." Shepard said, smiling, "Everything runs late on that schedule. Besides this is her first time on the citadel _and _she's got her boyfriend with her. _And _she's on a school trip. It's probably taken her this long just to slip away from the teachers."

"What if it's something else?" Miranda demanded. She wasn't hysterical, but her tones were getting there, "I mean we didn't exactly finish that conversation on the best of terms, John. What if she didn't want to come."

"That's ridiculous." Shepard replied evenly, "You're her sister, Miri. She knows how much you care. She and Danner have probably been making out beside the Conduit and lost track of time."

"He better not have touched her." She snarled, pacing furiously.

"I wonder if she'd have the same reaction if she ever found out about _our _own experience on the engine room floor…"

Miranda halted and held up a warning finger, "That is completely different!"

John opened his eyes and looked up at her, "How? You're both grown women, perfectly capable of making your own decisions. She and Danner are the same age. They're dating…"

"It's different because she's _my_ sister! I'm very protective about her. You know that!"

"If I didn't before…" John replied, grinning.

"You just watch your tongue, John Shepard!"

The door opened and Miranda's head snapped around at high speed. A young couple walked through the door, hand in hand. The girl was dressed in a striking red outfit, very obviously Asari in design. The boy, like Shepard, had opted for simple with a blue shirt and grey dress pants.

Shepard examined the girl first. She was… Miranda. Much younger, granted, but the same face. To one who didn't know that they were clones, the two looked vastly different. She had dyed her hair blonde, but the difference was the make-up. Whereas Miranda had been trained from childhood how to best take advantage of her looks, Oriana had grown up probably without bothering with it until she was fourteen. She had done her best, but the inexperience showed.

The boy was watching Shepard with an almost comedic wide-eyed expression. He had a dark mop of hair and gun-metal blue eyes. From a pure looks perspective, Shepard could understand Oriana's attraction, but the boy lacked confidence. As soon as his girlfriend let go of his hand, it was awkwardly shoved in his pockets along with the other. The young man's gaze left John's face and moved onto Miranda's at which point he turned bright red.

Miranda and Oriana were locked in a tight embrace, all quarrels forgotten. The younger sister shifted to look at Shepard, then whispered something to Miranda and both of them started to giggle.

"I'll see you inside." Shepard said, slightly louder than was probably necessary. He'd made his own plans, and needed to check that they'd been carried through successfully. He gave young Danner a brief nod and stepped outside the door. He sidled up to an inconspicuous Drell who was engrossed in a newspaper.

"Any trouble?"

A page turned methodically, "None."

"How's Kolyat?"

"Doing well. But busy today. Thank you for the assignment. It's kept me occupied."

"No problem. What was the hold-up?"

"They paused to hear Avina's lectures on the Krogan statue," the Drell spoke, blinking amphibiously, "The young woman was quite worried that they'd missed you."

"Thank you."

"I'll keep an eye out."

"I appreciate this, Thane."

"Go enjoy yourself, Shepard."

* * *

Miranda had found a table at the far end of the club, opposite the dance floor and near the massive windows which granted an incredible view of the open arms of the Citadel. He arrived at the table to find that the waitress had already set down a few appetizers, which Miranda had heaped on her own plate. She and Oriana were sitting side by side, facing the door, with Danner opposite them. John made to take a seat beside him, but was prevented by Miranda, "Pictures first, John."

"Pictures?" he asked nervously. Oriana had already sprung to her feet, a sunny smile on her face. The difference between the two sisters was rapidly becoming obvious. Miranda, with the exception of a few particular circumstances, was a cold, quiet, reserved woman with a professional demeanor which, on the outside at least, was cold to the point of unapproachable. Oriana, on the other hand, was an out-going woman with a warm smile. She very obviously wore her heart on her sleeve. She embraced him just as she had done to Miranda, "Hi, by the way."

John patted her on the back awkwardly, looking to Miranda for instructions. She was just watching in bemusement.

At last, Oriana pulled away , grabbed his shoulders, and steered him over to the nearby window. She pulled Danner out of his chair and maneuvered him beside Shepard, "Get up, you dolt. You've been waiting for this since yesterday!"

Danner passed the Commander a sheepish, apologetic look. He seemed unable to keep his eyes off the floor, at least until Oriana ordered him to look up, at which point his gaze snapped to her face obediently. She held up her Omnitool and scanned the image of them. Still smiling, she motioned at Miranda, "Now you!"

"I don't think it'd be…" Miranda muttered lamely.

"Get up, Lawson." Shepard barked, using his battle voice, the one which brooked no argument. To his internal surprise, her knees straightened, almost against her own will. She shot him a deadly glare, but walked around the table to join him nevertheless.

He felt her hand slip comfortably around his waist, and he did the same, pulling her close. She laid her head against his shoulder and they both smiled at the camera, lost in a relatively mundane, tender moment. Those came to the Normandy crew so rarely that he was prepared to treasure this one. Apparently Miranda was too, as she demanded a copy of the finished photo. Oriana sent one to both of them, then had the entire group rotate through pictures. She and Danner took one together, then her and Miranda. Then, to Danner's chagrin, himself and Miranda. Miranda and both Danner and Oriana, and the sisters with Shepard. The final photograph was of all four of them lined up against the purple backdrop of the Serpent Nebula. All four of them were tired of posing by the end, but Shepard was forced to admit that it was an excellent icebreaker.

They all took their seats again and resumed eating their way through the appetizers, which had grown cold, but were still delicious. Their waitress came by and took their orders. The food was the standard space-station fare, consisting of bland meats, frozen tubers, and a vegetable which always seemed to taste a little too much like broccoli. For real food on the citadel, one had to be willing to spend the money. But Shepard had lived for months on much worse during his time as an N7 marine.

"Oriana suggested you should start reciting poetry to me." Miranda said, a forkful of some unknowable dish half-way to her mouth.

"She did, huh?" John shot Miranda's sister a playful glare.

"It's romantic!" the young woman fought back.

Danner and Shepard shared a look. It said: _Women, eh?_

"Alright." Shepard picked up his wineglass and held it out, saluting Miranda, "Roses are red," he began, causing the entire table to burst out laughing, "Violets are blue…" His voice died away, but his smile transformed into a mischievous grin, "Assuming direct control. This hurts you."

He set down his glass and cleared his throat. Miranda's fork landed on her plate. Her head was in her hands, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Danner had a quizzical expression on his face, while his girlfriend was glaring at the pair of them.

"That was _not_ very romantic!" she said indignantly.

"Relax Oriana," Miranda told her, smiling at John, "It was a joke."

"Well I didn't get it."

"It's classified." Shepard told her.

Miranda's tone took on a somber edge, "I'd be terrified if you had got it."

Attempting to stave off a conversational lull, Shepard turned his attention to Oriana's boyfriend, "So, where are you planning to go, Danner."

The young man looked almost panicky. He hadn't really expected John Shepard to address him directly.

"I dunno… I was thinking like Oriana. Colony development. I need the proper grades, though."

"You have a good academic record." Miranda said fairly, "and excellent grades in your sophomore year. I'm sure any company would be glad to have you."

Danner stared, "How did you…?"

"Just take it as a compliment." Shepard muttered, "Did you have any particular companies in mind?"

"I was going to apply at a few different places."

"Anywhere in particular?" Shepard asked.

"Solheim Industries."

The name prompted a subtle change in Miranda's expression. It would have been invisible to most people, but Shepard spotted it and frowned at her. She had drawn inwards, and was staring coldly into her glass of wine. He studied her for a few seconds while Danner, oblivious, prattled on about their revolutionary developments in colonization.

"So can I ask you a question?" Danner inquired.

"Sure."

The boy hesitated, then asked, "Where have you been the past few years?"

John stared at him silently.

"I mean…" Danner tried, "The news vids said you were dead, but that was a cover, obviously, so where were you? What were you doing?"

Shepard remained silent.

The poor boy wilted under his gaze, "If you can't tell me, then that's okay too." He said quietly.

Shepard looked across the table to Miranda, "Did Tim ever put any restrictions on how much I was allowed to say?"

Miranda smiled at the acronym, "I believe he trusted you to use your discretion, Commander."

John grinned and turned back to Danner, "If I said those vids were right…?"

"I'd probably call you crazy." Oriana intervened.

"You wouldn't be the first, either."

They were forced to pause as their food was brought to the table. It was piping hot, which suited Shepard just fine. His own order was ribs, or at least the closest equivalent they could get their hands on. The result was a slab of meat which would have looked like every other slab of meat on the table were it not for the inordinate amount of brown sauce which had been smeared atop it.

"Oriana nudged her sister, "So, why do you call him Commander?"

"It's his rank, stupid." Miranda replied.

"Well yeah, but aren't you on first-name terms?" the young woman smiled wickedly, "Or is it a nickname?"

Miranda sighed, "Look, Shepard isn't a high-school sweetheart. It's a lot more…serious." She died away in the face of her sister's smile.

"Serious?" Oriana asked, "Like…marriage?"

Shepard choked on a forkful of the green vegetable. For the first time since the larval reaper, he felt the onset of outright panic. Oriana spotted his flushed cheeks and brust out in ruckus laughter.

"Like… we risk our lives against overwhelming odds on a regular basis." Miranda answered, silencing her sister. She smiled across at Shepard, "We have our moments, but he's a professional soldier. A Spectre. An N7 marine, and I'm his executive officer. The job comes first, and it's not an easy one, or a safe one."

"Way to spoil the mood, Miri." Oriana grumbled.

"How did you two get together, anyway?" Shepard asked, trying to put some distance between them and a certain conversational minefield."

"That was weird, actually." Danner said, "We kept getting shoved into the same groups somehow. We got to know each other and things followed through…"

Digging into his pseudo-ribs, Shepard raised his eyebrows at Miranda: _Your doing?_

She gave him the tiniest hint of a nod, and then tapped her face. John raised his fingers to his cheek and brushed against something moist. He drew his hand away. The fingertips were covered in the mysterious brown rib sauce.

"Hell. Excuse me." He rose as graciously as he could, taking his napkin with him. he headed across the length of the bar and down the narrow entrance to its small washroom. Shepard hadn't remembered there being one in the place during his first visits, but on the other hand, he'd always been occupied with something else at the time.

The single sink was placed across from the bathroom stalls. The walls, floor, and ceiling all had the same slightly faded white tile which made up all the interior surfaces of the Citadel. All the same, it struck him as a dingy place. The sort of place in which a man'd be afraid to wash his hands for fear of infection. It could have rivaled the worst parts of Omega. Shepard bent down over the rusted sink. He turned on the taps and let the cool water pool in his palms. He splashed it on his face, taking care to clean off his cheek. He stared into the mirror, examining his scarred features. He needed another shave. Certainly before he could convince Miri to take a swim in the hotel Jacuzzi. He ran his hand down the side of his face. Akuze had left him with an enormous scar, courtesy of the acidic thresher maw venom, which had mauled his good looks. Project Lazarus had made it disappear, only to be replaced with dozens of smaller scars, all from recent battles.

In the stall behind him, he heard a toilet flush. The hairs on the back of his neck rose; whomever had entered the washroom had been there since his arrival. Far longer than was needed to do any business. That, or Thane had been incapacitated somehow. Either way…

The stall door slammed open and Shepard ducked, seeing the glint of metal in the bathroom mirror. The movement saved his life, as the knife skittered across his cheek instead of slitting his throat.

* * *

**Alright, this chapter was getting a little long, so I decided to split it in two and leave it as a cliffhanger. Flux doesn't actually have a washroom, but neither does the original Normandy SR-1, so…**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclosure 6

Miranda felt a hand tap her lightly on the shoulder. She looked into the smiling face of Oriana. The girl was giving her a dirty grin, "Miss him already?"

"What?"

"Only you've been staring at the bathroom entrance for nearly a minute now."

"Well how long does it take someone to wash their face?"

Oriana shrugged, "I dunno. Maybe he decided to do some other business while he was there."

"Oriana..."

"Don't worry Miri," the girl said between mouthfuls of her own dish, an Asari stew, "I think it's kinda cute that you care so much."

"_Cute_?" Miranda scoffed, "that's hardly-"

"It is!"

"Is not!"

"I wouldn't argue with her." Danner mumbled into his plate, "She can be stubborn."

"So can I." Miranda shot back coldly.

* * *

The knife thrust past, less than an inch from Shepard's eye. It slammed into the wall behind him and he heard his assailant cry out as the man's knuckles were skinned against the metal wall tiles. But the man recovered and elbowed Shepard in the face, causing him to stumble into a bathroom stall. The knife wasn't very large, but it didn't need to be. Three inches would be too much, and Shepard was quite naked without his armour; an easy target for any would-be assassin.

The close-quarters of the washroom meant that Shepard's usual distant hand-to-hand fighting style was useless as his back would be permanently against a wall. He was forced to resort to close-in, which meant that his arms would be lower to protect his midriff. Unfortunately that meant more headshots. The battlefield also meant that the pistol was useless. His opponent was human, trained, which didn't help matters. Probably an ex-marine himself. Shepard didn't bother to catalogue the man's looks. He was too busy just trying to stay alive.

* * *

"It's so romantic!" Oriana explained dreamily, "The savior of the citadel, and his executive officer traveling the galaxy together… seeing the universe…"

"It is not romantic!" Miranda snapped, well aware that her buttons were being pushed, "I'm his executive officer, Oriana. On the surface at least we have to keep the relationship strictly professional."

"Exactly. And all that's what makes it so much better. It's the forbidden fruit."

"Stop it!" Miranda insisted, her ears turning red.

"So," Oriana asked, bolstered by her sister's embarrassment, "Have you guys actually done The Deed yet?"

"That is none of your business!" Miranda scolded, ignoring Danner who had had started coughing for some reason.

"I wonder if Shepard would give me an answer when he gets back…" Oriana pondered playfully.

"Don't you dare!" Miranda threatened.

* * *

The man used his right arm to thrust the knife towards Shepard's eyes in the hopes of a blinding hit. It didn't necessarily have to slice the eyeballs themselves. All it had to do was get a little blood in them. If that happened, it was all over. Fighting a trained, armed man while blind was next to impossible. Leaning to his left, John snapped his left arm across his face, flicking the knife away. He felt it cut through the soft material of his black coat and slice his shoulder open, but that was better than the alternative, and his skin weaves negated what could have been some very serious damage. He fought the pain and wrapped his own right arm around the man's right arm. Then he struck out with his left, punching the man awkwardly in the jaw. It was a stunning blow, not a finishing one, and John knew that if he didn't follow through, his opponent would recover, switch hands, and stab him in the gut. Shepard stepped behind the man's back, turning his locked arm into a half-nelson. He grabbed the man's left shoulder, kicked his knee out, and spun both of them violently into one of the stalls.

* * *

"C'mon Miranda, I'm your sister! Talking about boys is like, a law, or something."

"It should be repealed." Miranda muttered fervently.

"So how was he?" Oriana asked gleefully, "Was he gentle?"

Miranda gave Danner a demanding look, "Doesn't this bother you?"

He shook his head, "I'm not getting involved in this one."

"Nah," said Oriana, gauging her sister's reactions, "He's Commander Shepard. He probably plays rough…"

* * *

John slammed the man's head down on the rim of the toilet bowl, causing a fair number of broken teeth to drop into the unflushed morass. The water, already yellow and brown, turned bright red. Shepard looked to the man's side. overcome with pain, he had dropped his knife. John picked it up in a reverse grip and slammed it repeatedly into his opponent's back, puncturing the man's lungs, so that the air whistled and bubbled through the holes with every one of the man 's wheezing, wracking coughs. Though disgusting, they only provided encouragement.

Shepard's marine training dictated that he should be an impartial, clearheaded killer. But nothing ever truly negated the adrenaline and pure fury of a raw primal beat-down. John braced himself, grabbed the man's dark, curly hair and pushed his face into the bowl, drowning him in the fresh sewage. The attacker's hands scrabbled weakly at the floor as his lungs filled up with the dirty water. John held him down until the sludge was seeping out of the fresh knife wounds. He watched patiently as the man's fingers scrabbled against the cold metal floor until at last, fingernails broken and torn, they stopped.

* * *

"I'm not discussing this."

"I'm not going to stop till I get an answer."

Miranda sighed, "Look, John is fine, alright. I've had better, but I've also had much worse. And that's not why we're together, anyway. We bonded over… well…over you." She watched her sister's teasing expression fade. Oriana shot a pleading look at Danner, who nodded and scuttled away.

"How?" Oriana asked.

Miranda sighed, "I asked him for help when I heard you were being moved again. Up until that point, we hadn't been getting along very well. I regarded myself as his… handler. I can't go into the details, but it was _my_ job to see to it that he did his. I was also..."

"Spying?" Oriana asked, passing through a particularly insightful moment.

"…Monitoring him. On behalf of my employer." Miranda waved it away as unimportant, "The point is that we were not on good terms, But I was forced to ask for his help in seeing you safely off of Illium. And he fought as hard for me as he would have for his closest friend, regardless of our relationship."

Oriana frowned, "Fought? Like actual fighting?"

Miranda sighed, "Don't ask. But there was a reason your flight was delayed that day."

"The dead Eclipse mercs…"the young woman frowned, her teasing tone had dissipated, only to be replaced by genuine curiosity, "I read about it on the extranet. That was all related to me? Why? What happened?"

"I just told you not to ask." Miranda said shortly, "I want you and your life as far from that part as possible. It's been dealt with and I don't want to hear any more about it."

"What did I do that could possibly piss off an entire platoon of eclipse mercenaries?"

"You did nothing. It was something I did. And stop asking."

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to start hiring information brokers." Oriana told her, "I'll find out somehow.

"Please don't!" Miranda begged, "Oriana, you have a good, safe life now, and asking questions will ruin it. Please stop. Ask me anything else. Any other questions. Any at all and I'll be honest! I swear!"

"Just give me one question!" Oriana haggled, "Just one question related to it, and then I'll stop asking and I won't look for anything more! I promise!"

Miranda opened her mouth to say no, but stopped. Shepard was right, her sister had grown up, and perhaps had a right to know a small part of the picture. Perhaps it was time to give her some slack. She sighed, "One question."

"Does it have anything to do with what you and Shepard are doing?"

"No." Miranda answered honestly. She sighed, inwardly, in relief, "It happened long before I ever met him. That's part of the reason I was amazed that he'd make the effort. I had no right to ask, and he had no reason to help."

* * *

The vids were right; violence was a drug, unmatched in its potency save for sex. Once a man had got the taste for it, he was very difficult to satisfy. N7 Marines were exposed to it more than any other section of the Alliance military, and were very carefully screened. That craving in the hands of the wrong trained individual could be disastrous.

The beast within him was howling in triumph, and demanding more. John fought down the darkness as he took a few steps back from the body. He stripped his coat off and took a look at his white shirt. It wasn't white anymore, but had been stained with sweat and blood. He stripped it off and took a look at the cut on his arm, and the one on his cheek. He activated his omnitool and pumped a unit of medigel, watching the wounds shrink. They weren't closed, but they were smaller. The one on his cheek had stopped bleeding, and the other was only seeping where before there had been a steady stream.

Working quickly, he cleaned the knife and used it to cut a strip out of the shirt. He tied that onto his shoulder and tested it experimentally. The arm worked fine. Shoving the knife in his back pocket, he turned the tap on and washed the blood off his face, chest, and hands. He almost looked normal, aside from the new wound on his face. Perhaps it was a good thing he hadn't shaved; his stubble did a good job of hiding it. Miranda would spot it, certainly, but Oriana and Danner hadn't been around him enough to not recognize it as simply another scar. The N7 implants and skin weaves meant that the bruises and swelling wouldn't show for another hour. He slipped on his jacket over his bare chest and zipped it up, ignoring the relatively minor discomfort. The shoulder of the jacket was torn, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Shepard turned his attention to the corpse. He used what was left of his shirt to wipe the ichor off the man's face, then took a picture. The man had dark curly hair, a scar across his nose and left cheek, green eyes and dark stubble. A quick search of the man's pockets revealed nothing. His omnitool had been wiped clean of all information. John wasn't surprised. It wouldn't do the assassin's employers any good to leave that information around.

Grunting with the effort, he lifted the corpse onto the toilet, shut the stall door, straightened his jacket, put a smiled on his face, and walked out. Stuck in full combat mode, he scanned the bar. It was empty aside from Miranda and her sister. Danner was skulking near one of the giant windows. Miranda and her sister were still seated at the table, deep in conversation. He ran his eyes along the upper gambling mezzanine, looking for the profile of an assault rifle, but saw nothing. He decided to start with Danner.

"So?" John asked, walking up to stand beside the young man. Shepard made sure to stand on the boy's right side, so that the tear in his jacket was hidden from view.

"I can't believe that when I go home, I can tell my parents I had lunch with John Shepard…" the boy told him.

John chuckled, "Bet that'll raise some eyebrows."

"I have the picture to prove it, though."

Shepard watched as a taxi floated by at a lazy pace, "You don't know a man named Conrad Verner, do you ?"

"Never heard the name, why?"

"No reason."

They stood in awkward silence for a little while. Eventually, Danner said, "the lunch kinda wound down while you were in the washroom."

"What are they talking about over there?"

"Something that happened to Oriana on Illium."

Shepard's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. Both boys looked to the table, where the women were still locked in conversation. Miranda spotted him and gave him a gentle smile. He returned it with a curt nod, trying to send her the message that things were not all well.

"God, she's pretty." Danner sighed.

"Who?"

"Miranda."

Shepard grinned, "Stick with Oriana, kid. In a few years, she'll look just like that."

"Really?" Danner grinned.

"Yep. By then you should be old enough to enjoy it, too."

"I'm nineteen."

"Inexperienced, in other words."

The boy shrugged awkwardly, "I guess…"

John started over to the table. Miranda and Oriana quieted down as he approached them, and he could tell by their expressions that they'd been discussing him at great length. He hoped Miranda had shown some discretion. Her azure eyes scanned him, taking in the torn jacket and the wound on his cheek. Her eyes widened slightly, but otherwise she gave no visible indications that she'd noticed anything at all.

"That took you a little while." Oriana said.

John shrugged, "I decided to kill two birds with one stone." He hoped Miranda had picked up on the hint. She nodded, though he wasn't sure whether or not she'd picked up on it. Her face was completely blank, her smile natural, and he wouldn't have guessed she'd picked up a damned thing. Except that he knew that Miranda Lawson had a lot more practice with this sort of thing than he himself had, and was probably much better at it.

He grinned down at both of them. "Danner told me that the lunch has kinda gone cold." He glanced at the bar conspiratorially and leaned down, "And to be honest, the ribs here are just shit. So who's up for a walk?"

"Sounds lovely." Miranda agreed, and relief surged through him. She knew something was wrong, and was following his lead. She was the lynch pin. If he could convince her, Oriana and Danner would fall in line.

"All right? Where to?"

"I want to go to the presidium." Oriana piped up, "You can show Danner the conduit. Besides it's beautiful there."

_Too open…_ said John's inner soldier, _We'd be easy prey for any half-decent snipers._

"Sounds great." Miranda replied, smiling, "You go collect Danner."

The two women rose from the table and Oriana headed off after Danner. Miranda casually sidled up beside Shepard and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She kept her mouth near his ear a little longer to whisper, "If I checked the washroom right now, what would I see?"

Knowing Oriana was watching them, John leaned in and returned the affectionate gesture, "One dead assassin. No ID. Trained. Probably ex-military. Not a biotic."

"Well I hope you at least got a picture." She murmured, pulling his mouth to hers.

"I did."

"We'll sort it out later then." The woman gave him a playful slap on his wounded shoulder. It took him a fair amount of self-control to prevent himself from wincing.

* * *

**One of the things which always bothered me in mass effect was jsut how clean the world was, and how clean the combat was. For some reason i love the idea of a dirty, grimy, ugly close-quarters brawl. **


	7. Chapter 7

Disclosure 7

The first thing Shepard felt when he stepped through the door connecting Flux to the rest of the wards, was panic. Miranda, Oriana and Danner were already there, staring down at a large dark red patch on the ground. John looked around, but there was no sign of Thane. He fought down rising the swell of anger, and tried to think.

"Is that… blood?" Danner asked nervously.

"Yes." Miranda answered. She put an arm around her sister, who was looking fearful.

Shepard crouched down beside the and gave it a closer examination.

"Is it…human?" Oriana squeaked, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"It's red," Shepard told her, "that's about all I can do for you."

He stood and pulled Miranda aside, "If that's Drell blood, we have a very serious problem."

She stared, "You had Thane guarding us?"

"I asked him to make sure your brother and sister got here in one piece."

The woman gave him a grateful, yet worried look.

Danner cleared his throat, "Um… C-sec is only a short walk from here…"

"We're not involving them until both of you are safely out of here." Miranda snapped. She turned back to Shepard, who tapped the predator pistol hidden beneath his coat. She sighed and nodded.

"Send a message to EDI." Shepard ordered, unzipping his jacket to reveal his scarred chest beneath, "I want Garrus, Zaeed, Jacob, Grunt, Samara, and Mordin down here now and loaded for bear."

He pulled out the pistol and flicked off its safety. Miranda stepped away from the group and relayed the orders back to the ship.

"My god, you had that on you the whole time?" Oriana pressed her hand to her mouth win a look of shock.

"Yep." Shepard held the pistol loosely in his hand, watching the far door.

"Where's your shirt?" the young woman demanded.

"Oriana…" Miranda tried to cut in, but to her own surprise, was shushed.

John met Oriana's eye and shrugged, "Lying in a blood-filled toilet underneath a dead assassin in the Flux washroom."

This statement was greeted with stunned silence. Danner took a few hesitant steps towards the nightclub, but Miranda held up a hand, "Do you really want to go see it?"

The boy thought it through and shook his head.

Oriana held up an accusatory finger, "And then you just walked out and acted like everything was normal? You're a Grade A psycho, you know that?"

John shrugged, "I kill people for a living, Oriana. I kinda thought that was common knowledge. For every bad, there's a worse. I kill when I have to. The galaxy is a dangerous place and someone in my position has to play for keeps."

"That's different." The girl deflated slightly, "It's different when those are just stories you hear about on the news. But when the guy you had lunch with stopped in the bathroom to kill somebody…" she motioned down at the puddle of blood, "Whose is this, anyway? I don't' think I've ever been this close to the action…"

"I don't know whose blood that is." Shepard said grimly, "It's either the blood of a good friend of mine, or the blood of the person who attacked him. Either way, I _am_ going to get answers."

Oriana rounded angrily on her sister, "And how many people have _you _killed?"

"Oriana, it's not-"

"Tell me!" the younger sister exclaimed, "If my sister is a murderer, I want to know."

Shepard took one look at Miranda's expression, and felt anger rise. He grabbed the young woman by the shoulder and spun her around, "That woman took at least six rounds so that you and your parents could get off of Illium without hooking up with those Mercs." Shepard spoke harshly, cowing her into silence, "She did it so you could live your life without that kind of threat hanging over your head. The fact that you can afford to stand there and be shocked at the sight of blood is a privilege, not a right, and Miranda bought it for you with her own blood, and her own life. And you owe her far more respect than you're showing her right now."

He let go and met Miranda's eye. The murderer comment had stung her, he could tell, but she was trying to hide how much. He said, "I want to hear an apology. Right now."

"I'm sorry." Oriana whispered.

Miranda pulled her sister into a long, tight hug.

* * *

The Normandy SR-2 was much larger than Ash had expected. It was almost twice the length of the original, and had very obviously been through the wringer. Large gaps of the outer plating were missing altogether, and the cargo hold was completely open and vented, with twisted metal and melted plastic surrounding the openings. Even as she watched, technicians were slaving away over it, trying to close the gaps. She stared in dismay at the bow, upon which was emblazoned the Cerberus logo.

The airlock hissed open and expelled a young Quarian woman, who immediately smothered Ashley in a tight hug, "Chief!"

"It's lieutenant now." Ash told her, returning the hug, and trying to find the quarian's eyes beneath her purple faceplate.

The Quarian backed away a step and looked her old friend up and down. "And Spectre, too." She observed, "Congratulations, Chief, you deserve it."

"Thank you." Ashley said gratefully, "I wasn't expecting that."

"Why not?" the Quarian reasoned, "You're part of the old crew."

"Garrus didn't give me the friendliest reception."

Tali put her hands on her hips severely, "What did he say?"

"He said I was a traitor."

"Bahh," Tali waved a dismissive hand, "That's ridiculous. You ignore him. You know how Garrus is. He and Shepard both dove right off the deep end."

"What do you mean?"

"They're both so serious all the time." The Quarian complained, "Garrus went vigilante and tried to commit suicide by mercenary, and Shepard only smiles when Miranda's around." Ashley tried to ignore the jealousy in the young Quarian's voice as she pointed at the Cerberus logo, "I'm not even going to start on _that_."

"Who is Miranda?" Ashley asked, "I've been hearing a lot about her."

"A Cerberus bitch." The Quarian growled, stamping her foot, "You aren't going like her at all. And she's got Shepard wrapped around her little finger."

"Are you sure that's not just jealousy talking?" Ashley asked, a small amount of pleading in her voice, "Tali I've been ordered here by the council to determine if John is still running things, or if he's been compromised."

Tali's posture suddenly tightened up, showing caution, "Is that why Garrus called you a traitor?"

"Actually he was angry about Horizon." Ashley shifted uncomfortably, "That conversation was botched on both ends, but I'm no traitor. And if Shepard is working for Cerberus."

"He's working _with _Cerberus because that's his only option." Tali corrected grimly, "And believe me, he's not happy about it."

"And what about this Miranda?" Ashley protested, "How much control does she have over Shepard? You said he's wrapped around her pinky finger."

"No more control than you did before he died. And no more than the council does." The young Quarian told her, "And if you want to pay any respect to the previous Normandy, you're going to strike that comment off the record."

"It was the most honest thing I've heard out of any of you." Ashley said.

"No, it was just me venting, and what both of us want to hear." Tali told her, "I don't like Cerberus any more than you do. They're terrorists, and they attacked the migrant fleet, but John Shepard is still John Shepard. He helped her rescue her sister or something." The Quarian shrugged, "Go talk to them and see for yourself. He's the same man, he just… doesn't have that many allies right now."

The airlock hissed open again, and expelled the largest and most diverse group of aliens Ash had ever seen. Most of them were scarred and mauled. They were all very obviously used to heavy combat, even the Salarian, one of whose horns had been broken off. He was followed by a toughened old veteran, whose face was warped, the right side of his face was a giant warped scar with one milky white eye.

"That's Zaeed Massani." Tali told her.

"Seriously?" Ashley stared. She'd heard stories about the ruthless and relentless mercenary's accomplishments back when she was first enrolled at the academy. His legend had only grown since then. The man noticed her stare and broke from the group to walk over.

"What'cha lookin' at, Princess?" he growled. His voice was exactly what she would have expected; rough as a sawblade, toughened and hardened with age, and tempered with experience. He probably swallowed a cup of acid and broken glass every morning just to keep it in shape.

"What happened to your face?" Ashley asked.

"Got shot in the head." The merc snapped, "The fuck happened to yours?"

"Nothing."

"So you're normally that ugly, eh?" the old man laughed.

"Zaeed!" a voice barked. Ashley looked over his shoulder. A black man was approaching them. Ashley would have placed his age between twenty-five and thirty-five. She took in his chiseled face, and perfect physique, and felt herself blush.

Zaeed Massani burst out in deprecating laughter, "I think she wants to fuck you, Jacob."

"Zaeed!" the man barked again, "This isn't what you're getting paid for."

The man grunted in response. He pumped the bolt of his sniper rifle, ejecting an unused thermal clip. His other hand struck like a snake and caught the flying cartridge as it pinwheeled through the air. Then her turned and sauntered towards the elevator.

"Sorry about that." The man said, giving Ashley an honest smile, "I'm Operative Jacob Taylor, the Normandy's Armory officer."

"Lieutenant Ashley Williams." Ash replied.

"I know." He shook her by the hand enthusiastically, "You climbed the tower with Shepard and Garrus. I was stationed on Eden Prime during the Geth attack." He turned to Tali, "I don't want to break anything up here, Tali, but the emergency life support systems are down again."

"The _emergency _life support is down?" Ashley cut in.

"Yeah," he grinned, "but the regular life-support works just fine."

Ashley chuckled.

"What's going on?" Tali asked, "Where is everyone going?"

"Shepard got attacked. And Thane is missing." The human held up a hand, preventing Tali from moving, "But we'll deal with it. You need to help fix the ship, Tali."

Tali sighed, "I'll see what I can do." She turned to Ashley, and gave her another hug, "Talk to you later?"

"Yeah."

Williams and Taylor were left alone on the dock.

"Sooo…" the man began, "You here to snoop?"

"Something like that." She replied.

"It sounds like a move the council would make." He said, nodding, "Gotta say though, I didn't expect that it'd be _you _they'd turn to."

"You say you were an alliance soldier." Ash reminded him, "Why would you join Cerberus?"

"Got tired of the paperwork and red-tape." The man replied. Ash could hear honesty in his voice, "the alliance has a problem and that's the fact that every move they make is judged by the galaxy, so they gotta be diplomatic and do things through the right channels. But that means more often than not, those things don't get done."

"But… Cerberus are terrorists."

"Yeah." The man nodded, "Among many other things. But we brought Shepard back, and saved Horizon. That's gotta count for something, even for a marine like you."

"About bringing him back…" Ashley asked meaningfully, "What do you know about it?"

"Not much." The man admitted, "You'd have to ask Miranda for the details, but I know he came in one door as meat and tubes, and walked out the other fragging security bots with a Carnifex. I know there was a scrapped plan to put a control chip in his brain."

They stared at each other.

"I'm amazed you were swilling to tell me that." Ashley said.

"It was scrapped." The man replied, "Besides, cutting you out of the loop isn't the way to stop you from worrying. If security was at the top of my list, I would've already taken you off the dock. But let's take a walk. I'll tell you what I can."

* * *

**God do i love Zaeed Massani. The guy is just a walking tower of awsome. I've always wondered what a conversation between Ash and Jacob would look like. A you can tell, all the arrows are pointing towards Miranda. **

**I know this story isn't for the Ashley lovers out there, but i'm not trying to do any kinda smear job on her.**


	8. Chapter 8

Miranda stared down the length of the white sterile hallway, watching the door at the far end. She was chewing her lips thoughtfully, and her perfectly sculpted face was taut with quiet anger. Shepard knelt beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. She didn't resist the move, but didn't embrace it as she usually did. He glanced backwards at Oriana and Danner, who were lost in their own silent world, stuck in much the same pose. The young girl was staring hard at the pool of blood.

John leaned into Miranda slightly, "Are you alright?"

"No."

Shepard had never seen the woman crying. Not in anger or sadness, at any rate. She was not crying then, either, but it took him a few moments to realize that her voice had cracked. She was still staring at the far door. He tightened his grip around her and felt the woman soften slightly. He took the hint and pulled her in further, feeling her slowly thaw out until they were leaning against each other comfortably.

"Talk to me, Miri." He whispered into her ear.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this!" she explained. Miranda kept a tight leash on her voice, but it was cracking nevertheless. A little way down the hall, Shepard heard Oriana shift uncomfortably. One of the things which constantly astonished Shepard was the way Miranda's normally cold exterior would disappear the moment her sister was involved. He hadn't realized just how professional she had been acting the first time she'd requested his help.

Miranda sighed, "I just wish that for once _something _would go right."

"Something did." John gently pulled over her right arm and activated her omnitool. He brought up the image of Oriana and Miranda standing together, silhouetted against the majestic backdrop of the citadel arms. Hints of a smile teased her lips. On his own omnitool, he brought up the image of both of them standing together, arms around eachother, her head on his shoulder. He could feel Oriana's gaze on them.

"It's a good picture." He said, "If you're okay with it, I'd like to put it up in the loft…"

"Just so long as you don't use my name for any passwords." She said, "That's how things usually get hacked in all the vids."

"Oh, don't worry." John grinned, "I use the nickname for the thresher maw which slaughtered my squad on Akuze."

Her smile broke through, "You gave it a nickname?"

"Bartholomew."

She laughed quietly.

"It's long," he continued, "But they say the longer the better, right?"

"It's good." She grinned, nodding, "Very good. I doubt anyone would guess. Glad you have such a positive outlook."

"I said before: Blasto saves Christmas."

"I'm not watching that."

"Your loss. That vid is a masterpiece."

"You don't know the meaning of the word."

"Yes I do!" he protested, "I'm dating one."

Her eyebrows shot about as high as they could go, and she regarded him with a look of dry exasperation. He returned it with a winning smile.

"That was not your best." The woman broke the news to him delicately.

"Not my worst, either." He replied happily.

"Well now I'm terrified."

The door at the far end opened, and John picked up his pistol, but relaxed as soon as he spotted the scarred Turian. Garrus was being followed by the majority of Shepard's team, all of them armed to the teeth.

"Shepard." Garrus said, walking up to him, "I guess it's true what they say; you really can't catch a break. You armed?"

John waved the pistol, "Zaeed! Mordin!"

The merc stepped forward. Shepard slipped his pistol in the back of his pants and said, "You've been around. There's a dead assassin in the washroom. See if you know him."

The merc gave him a nod and disappeared, with Garrus at his heels.

Shepard pulled the Salarian doctor aside, pointing at the red stain on the floor, "I want to know whose blood that is."

Grunt pushed both of them out of the way and reached down with one knotted, tree-trunk arm. The enormous Krogan picked up Danner in one hand and lifted him into the air, turning him this way and that, regarding him with the same puzzled expression he'd worn when presented with a book.

Danner and Oriana had remained fearfully silent until that point. Shepard suspected they had never been near such a large and varied group of aliens before. They had probably never been near so many weapons before either.

The Krogan's deep voice made the entire group's teeth rumble, "What is this?"

Danner had gone limp with fear; the Krogan's mouth cavity was large enough that he could have easily bitten off the small man's head.

"You put him down!" Oriana said, clearly terrified, but still defiant.

"It's like a pipe-cleaner with eyes." The Krogan continued, ignoring her completely, "What should we use it for?"

"It's a civilian, Grunt." Shepard explained, "Drop it."

"It's my boyfriend!" Oriana yelled, trying to get the giant creature's attention. When that didn't work, she slapped it. Finally shocked into action, the Krogan dropped Danner, turned to Miranda's sister and let loose a great, rolling bellowing roar. The sort of roar which caused ancient man to drop their spears, run back to the cave, and sit there for a week. She stumbled backwards into the wall and slid down it, landing in a heap beside her boyfriend.

Miranda's biotic aura began to glow, almost instinctively. A gentle yet firm taloned hand laid itself on her shoulder. Garrus Vakarian was standing to her side. The Turian squeezed gently, communicating the need to stay calm. Grunt was just being Grunt, and he wouldn't truly hurt either Oriana or Danner unless ordered to by Shepard. If it were anyone else, she would have brushed the hand off and continued, but she knew about Garrus' relationship with John. The Turian was probably the only person in the galaxy closer to the commander than she was. He was Shepard's right hand, and if he was putting his hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her calm, it was only because John couldn't at that particular moment. He was doing it on John's behalf, and she knew he was doing exactly what the Commander would want him to.

Zaeed stood beside Garrus and grinned at the Commander, "Sure did a number on'im, eh Shepard? What a shitty end." The old merc chortled.

"Bet he got the point, though." Garrus muttered. Zaeed burst into a fresh fit of horrible laughter.

"Do you know him?" Shepard demanded, unamused.

"Never seen'im in my life." The Merc turned to Oriana and Danner, both of whom were sitting stock still, trying not to be noticed. They both appeared to breathe a little easier when Grunt had lost interest, though Danner's eyes were fixed on the old merc's scar. Zaeed grinned down at them, "This your sister, Lawson?"

"It is." The woman replied icily.

The merc opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it. Even he knew not to cross Miranda.

"Samara," Shepard ordered, "I want you and Zaeed to take Oriana back to their school group. Mordin, you take that blood back to the Normandy. I want to know whose it is. Grunt will back you up. Where's Jacob?"

"Talking to some Alliance Lieutenant." Zaeed said, "She and the Quarian were friendly."

"Williams." Garrus growled, "Shepard, I told you she's snooping around."

Miranda sighed and shook her head. Sometimes Jacob's desire for openness and honesty could do more harm than good. She turned and delivered the Turian an order: "Track him down, and get him back to the ship. I want to know what he's told her."

The Turian nodded immediately. He'd wait for Shepard's confirmation before acting on her order, she knew, but she had to appear in charge, especially with her sister so close by."

"Be careful." John added, "There might be more than one assassin."

"Well he's in trouble then." Garrus said, gripping his sniper rifle loosely, "he's on _my _turf."

"You have your orders," Shepard said, "Get them done."

The group disbursed. Grunt and Mordin blocked the blood puddle from view. Garrus sauntered off towards the C-sec headquarters. Miranda made to join her sister, but Shepard pulled her back, "That assassin was either after you, or he was after me. If either of us appear again with your sister in public, we put her at risk."

Miranda stared into his sharp blue eyes, seeing the iron wall he had put up. He was no longer John: Socialite and Beau, but Commander Shepard: Battle-hardened warrior, diplomat, and Spectre. Her eyes found his sleeve, where the blood had soaked through the bandage and stained the dark cloth.

"Danner's a good man, but he'll cave the moment someone points a gun at him. And you were right when you said your sister has no training."

Miranda sighed, "I know, Commander. Just give me a moment with her."

"Whatever you need."

* * *

The door between Flux nightclub and the wards slid shut.

"So…" Oriana brushed her dyed blond hair out of her eyes, "That's your crew?"

"Some of it." Miranda replied. She took a deep breath, "Oriana, we can't-"

"I know." Her sister interrupted shortly, "Protect me from the truth and all that."

Miranda nodded in silence. She smiled at her younger sister, "One day I'm really going to have to teach you how to put on makeup properly."

Oriana frowned, "What do you mean? I did my best. I'm kinda new to that whole scene, Miri."

"I know. But no one's supposed to able to tell you're wearing any," Miranda explained, "It's supposed to be invisible…"

"What do you do that needs so many guns?" Oriana asked, recognizing the feeble attempt at procrastination for what it was, "I've never seen so many different species in one place before."

"John keeps them under control." Miranda told her, "Aside from that, I don't want you to worry."

"I'm going to worry." The young woman replied honestly, "_You_ guys can't walk into a washroom without being attacked. I'm scared one day I'm going to send you a message and I'll never get a reply."

"Of course you will." Miranda said, drawing her sister into a comforting embrace.

"Just don't die!" Oriana ordered into her shoulder, "You promise me, damn it!"

Despite herself, Miranda chuckled, "I once asked John to promise the same thing."

"And what did he say?"

"He told me it didn't work like that, and then took the entire crew through what should have been a suicide mission without a single casualty. Believe it or not, I'm safer with him than with anyone, anywhere else in the galaxy."

"Yeah…" She felt Oriana smile, "That's something to be proud of, I suppose: my sister is dating Commander Shepard."

They broke apart, smiling at each other awkwardly.

"Did you really take six bullets for me?" Oriana asked.

"A few more than that, probably. I was wearing armour equipped with shields. That's not the important part, though. I got to talk to you." Miranda's smiled widened, "I got to talk to you. I got to talk to my sister."

The door opened, cutting their conversation short. Danner stumbled through, having obviously been pushed. Zaeed followed, grabbing the boy by the collar and bodily dragging him over. Samara followed them silently and took up station beside Miranda.

"Get movin', Romeo." The old merc walked up to Oriana, "Time to go, sweetheart."

"Just a few more minutes?" Oriana pleaded.

"Sure." Zaeed grinned, "That toothless fuck in the bathroom might have allies. The longer we hang around, the better the chance we run into a problem on the way back."

"He's right." Miranda admitted, "It's time to go."

Oriana embraced her sister one last time, "I want to meet again. Maybe when this is all over…"

Miranda felt relief flow through her. Her sister still wanted to stay close to her. Her own gut was telling her to put Oriana at a distance, but what she'd learned with Shepard was that the only result of that action would be regret.

"Okay, here's the drill." The old merc ordered, pulling them apart. He pushed Oriana and Danner against a wall, "Both of you stay together. I'll exit. Then you give me forty-five seconds. Then you follow. The Asari'll follow you. You run into gunfire, head for the nearest taxi terminal and get the hell outta dodge. Keep your heads down. Don't get cornered, stay in public places. Don't stop for anything. Any questions?"

"Zaeed," Miranda interrupted him, "Don't travel as a large group. It'll attract attention. Don't make yourself known unless absolutely necessary. Just keep watch on them."

The merc gave her a disdainful look, "You know who you're talking to, princess?" he grumbled in exasperation, still gripping Danner roughly by the collar, Christ, you'd think I'd never done this before… go ride Shepard's thresher maw. Leave this to the professionals."

In her previous life, she would have made the mercenary a smear on the floor for such an attitude, but for Miranda Lawson, a lot had changed during her travels on the Normandy. Besides that, the merc in question had survived being shot in the head. Miranda would

"You need not fear, Miss Lawson. While I draw breath, she will be safe." Samara promised, stepping forward. Miranda nodded. She had shared no more than two words with the reclusive Asari, who kept herself voluntarily confined to the observation deck, but the silence the two of them shared was a comfortable one, unlike Miranda's relationship with Jack. Nothing was said because nothing needed to be. The Justicar had been the first crew member aside from Garrus to discover the former Cerberus operative's relationship with Shepard, and she had not said a thing. Merely shared a smile, and kept their secret. If the Justicar demonstrated she would do all in her power to keep Oriana safe, Miranda was inclined to trust her. Oriana also looked reassured by the Justicar's soothing oath.

The old mercenary grabbed both of them by the collar and dragged them out the door, followed by Samara. Miranda made to follow, but was stopped at the door by John.

"She'll be fine." He assured her.

"I know…"

John watched her, trying to read her expression. He said, "There'll be other chances."

"I know." Miranda kept her tone colorless. This was one of the rare occasions in which the last thing she honestly wanted was John's input. He was perceptive enough to recognize that fact, at least, and settled for an uncomfortable silence as they made their way towards the transport terminals.

* * *

**next chapter is the showdown. after that, hopefully things'll start moving.**

**this was posted on September 11, so if you're done reading it, take a moment of silence and remember the victims.**

**I found a story which centers around Shepard, Miranda, and Oriana. It's so well written it could damned well have been professional. go check it out, i promise you won't be diappointed. It's called "Degrees of Inheritance" by a user named Elyvern. It's in my favorites list. Go check it if you like really good fanfiction.**


	9. Chapter 9

John readied a sterile cloth, laying it across the small table. Upon it he placed a set of clean bandages, a packet of medigel, some swabs, and a bowl of hot water. He could hear the sound of the showers in their suite's extravagant washroom. Miranda, without saying a word, had immediately disappeared into the washroom, taking her bathrobe in with her. John had fought the urge to join her for a few reasons, the first of which being that she was not in the beset of moods, and the second being that he had an open wound to deal with.

He carefully peeled off his jacket, laying it across the table. Blood had soaked the sleeve of one arm, and he made sure not to let it contaminate the sterile surface. He could have gone back to the Normandy and had Chakwas simply close the wound, but that was rather pointless, considering that with a combination of a liberal application of medigel, and his implanted trauma module, it would be healed up by the following afternoon.

Blood poured in a bright trickle down his arm. He reached down and picked up a piece of sterile cloth, holding it to the wound, trying to soak up the blood. He took a seat on the chair, settling his elbow on the arm, the cloth under it to absorb the trickle. He used the scissors to slit the corner of the medigel packet and squeezed some of the thick fluid out onto one of the swabs. He dabbed it gingerly against the wound, filling the open hole with the clear gel. Technically the genetic modification laws made the gel illegal, but it had saved so many lives, both military and civilian, that no one bothered to enforce the rule. It only took a few seconds for it to set and harden, but that was no problem; Shepard had spent many of those seconds crouching in cover with blue streams of death flashing inches above his head. Doing it while sitting in a comfortable chair overlooking the beautiful lights of the Serpent nebula was hardly a chore. In the washroom, he heard the showers stop.

Shepard picked up one of the bandages, bunched it up over the wound, and tied it haphazardly over the wound. It was a feeble covering, but it did the job, and he'd survived through much worse battle dressings on Mindoir, working only with an expired first aid license, and the hunting skills of a farm boy.

"You call that a dressing?"

He twisted in his chair to see the Australian brunette standing barefoot on the plush carpet, her thick bathrobe wrapped tightly around her. Her black mane was lying across her shoulders in dense, soggy strands.

He glanced down at the white tangle on his arm, "It'll do."

"It's a bloody disgrace." She declared irritably, strolling over. As she stepped up to the chair, she waved her hand, making the table slide back a foot. She sat down on the corner of it and untied the dressing, letting it fall to the floor. She picked up a second bandage and folded it into a strict square, placing it directly over the wound, "Hold that in place."

Shepard obeyed, watching her practiced hands as she folded the triangular bandages into long strips. "It's a damned good thing you didn't go to Chakwas," the woman ranted as she worked, "That woman wouldn't know the difference between a steri-strip and a butterfly closure."

In fact she did, Shepard knew. Doctor Chakwas was the most competent medical officer he had ever encountered, and she had saved his life on many occasions. He had seen her bring teammates back from the very edge of death and have them walking within a week. Miranda was well aware of the aged doctor's track record, and there was no way she could possibly have believed her own words. Her anger was not at Chakwas, but at herself and the universe. Things had not gone at all her way, or according to plan, and Miranda Lawson was not the sort of woman who dealt with diversity well, especially when it came to anything involving her sister. She had a tendency to take out her frustrations on the first thing that came to mind. In this particular case, it was the good doctor receiving the brunt of the woman's wrath.

"And stop analyzing me!" Miranda snapped, tightening the new, perfectly folded dressing slightly tighter than was probably adequate, "You know how I hate that."

"I'm sorry." Shepard said, inwardly thankful that she at least didn't see him as a target, but as something she still had some amount of control over. She pressed her thumb to his stubbled cheek and stretched it, taking a good look at the wound, which had nearly healed.

"Shave." She ordered, "That way I can at least see what I'm dealing with."

"It's nearly closed." John protested.

Miranda said nothing, but raised a single hand, finger pointing severely towards the washroom. John sighed and rose form the chair. As he crossed onto the heated tiled floor of the washroom, he heard the buzzer on the door beep. He smiled inwardly, pitying the minimum wage bell-clerk on the other side. Miranda was most certainly not in the mood for company. The thought crossed his mind that it might have been another assassin, but then he remembered Miranda's mood and his sense of pity only grew.

He grabbed his automatic razor and flicked it on, hearing the door open over the faint whirr of the blades. Then ice shot down his spine as he heard the curious voice of Ashley Williams, "Er…this is John Shepard's room…?"

_Not a good time… _Shepard put down the razor.

"Why, yes it is." Miranda responded sweetly, "Can I help you?"

_REALLY not a good time. _He rushed out of the bathroom to see Miranda standing in an undeniable sexy pose, her hip off to one side, arms crossed, lips pursed, and one elegant eyebrow raised. She was regarding the visitor with a frosty look. Ashley's nervous gaze shifted from her to John.

She nodded at him, "Skipper."

"Skipper?" Miranda asked, her accent showing through. It did vary slightly depending on her mood, and though she was hiding it, John knew that she was furious. She turned her icy gaze on him, her normally sweet voice full of scorn, "Should I start calling you that, John?"

"John'll do just fine." He replied dryly.

"This is a bad time…" Ashley said in an impressively restrained voice, "I'll try again some other time."

"Oh, no, please." Miranda shook her head, her voice razor sharp, "Stay. I insist. There's nothing in the galaxy I _love_ more than being interrogated by council stooges."

Ashley stiffed. She froze up in the same angry pose she'd taken upon hearing the news of the first Normandy's lockdown. Miranda could not have done a better job of provoking Ashley if she'd hit her. She addressed Shepard first, "A little more temperamental then you're used to, but I'm sure she's had lots of practice where it counts."

"Temperamental," Miranda whistled, "Five syllables. I'm impressed. That's four more than most grunts can manage on a good day."

"As opposed to the degrees your father purchased?" Ashley replied evenly.

"I earned those!" Miranda said, the barb slipping through her defenses.

"So I hear." Ashley nodded down at Miranda's breasts, "I'm glad to see your father bought a brain to accompany those."

"Mmm," Miranda smiled, looking her opponent up and down, "Sadly we weren't all as well-endowed… in either department."

"Can we just…take a breath here?" John asked, trying not to sound as if he were begging. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Both women turned their gazes on him, and he was momentarily surprised to find out that he hadn't been fried to a smoking crisp.

"I don't know why I expected anything but this." Ashley said, "I suppose you think of me as a traitor too?"

Shepard shook his head, "No. But I do think you moved on."

"I sent you that letter-" Ash protested.

"Which meant _Fuck ALL_!" John's voice rose to an angry yell. Both women looked taken aback by the sudden outburst. The sudden shock even made Miranda's arms uncross briefly. She recovered faster than Ash did, though. Shepard chewed his lip for a moment, letting himself wind down. He was supposed to be the calming element here…

He sank into the nearest chair. "I'm sorry, Ash. You made it painfully obvious you had moved on with your life."

"And you hopped onto the next fine piece of ass you could see?" she demanded, turning to Miranda, "How does it feel to catch him on the rebound?"

"How does it feel knowing you lost him in the first place?" Miranda replied coolly, "I think perhaps he simply wanted someone who could handle the bigger picture."

The female Spectre's face had turned bright red, her voice was low and deadly, "I _can _handle the bigger picture."

"You clearly can't." Miranda said with a derisive snort, her arms crossed, "When the Collectors were abducting human colonists, Cerberus said: let's go stop them. You said: I don't like Cerberus, so it has to be them. When Shepard died, Cerberus said: Unacceptable, we're bringing him back. You said: Well that's that… then you went back to work."

"I mourned first. And furthermore, what else was I supposed to do?" Ash said angrily, "It's ridiculous to hold that against me."

"Yes it is perfectly logical, Until you meet the woman who says 'that's not good enough.' And does everything in her power to fix it." Miranda shrugged, "You simply can't make the grade."

"I was at Ilos, and Virmire!" Ashley fought back, "I was with him when Sovereign spoke to us and told us the reaper's plans!"

"And I was with him when Shepard and Garrus took down a real larval reaper." Miranda responded, unfazed, "Where were you? Getting promoted back on earth? Taking credit for Shepard's work, possibly?"

"It was her work too, Miranda." Shepard interjected meekly, "You know me, I work with a team and you and Garrus both get credit for the reaper larvae…"

She ignored him. The two women glared at each other with such intensity that Shepard reckoned he could feel the temperature of the room actually lower.

"You don't have the willpower to fight this war." Miranda said. Though her tone contradicted the words, she added, "And there's no shame in that. Not very many people do. You don't have the will to stand up to your superiors and say 'You're wrong. They're coming, and we need to prepare!' no matter what that action costs you."

Ash had gone white. Every so often, she looked as though she had a repartee, but nothing ever came.

"I know what you're trying to do." Miranda continued, "You are trying to discredit and dismantle a group of exceptionally talented and committed individuals who've been brought together from all the different species in the galaxy, and all of whom are committed to saving it at any cost. You don't belong among us, and you certainly don't belong with the man who leads us."

"And _you_ do?"

"Yes." Miranda stated simply.

Ashley stared helplessly at the brunette beauty. In desperation, she turned to Shepard, "John?"

He was silent for a long while, stuck in deep thought, but clearly neither woman was willing to move until they'd heard his verdict.

He sighed, "I know exactly what's going to happen here, Ash. Either you go back to the council and tell them I've gone rogue, I'm a traitor, and that I should be brought to justice."

"I'd bet good money on that." Miranda cut in. Ashley glared at her.

"If that happens," Shepard continued, "I get convicted of treason, and probably executed."

"Like hell."

"Or," Shepard added, shooting Miranda a glance which on the surface appeared to be mute pleading, but within which was concealed a subtle warning, "You tell them you don't have the evidence, and they get someone else to do it." He looked up at her and spoke honestly, "You're a soldier, Ash. You're not going to tell them they're wrong. They are right because they're in charge, and they're in charge because they're right. You can't think the way this war is forcing _me_ to."

Ashley's face fell.

John continued, "So you go back to the council. You tell them whatever you want, or whatever you have to to keep yourself from walking the gallows with us. Miranda and I are going to find another solution."

"That's it, then?" the Spectre asked, picking up the proverbial pieces, "After all we went through, I'm just out? I'm done?"

"You made that clear on Horizon." Shepard said, "We aren't on the same side anymore, Ash. Besides, if I fail, someone has to be around to pick up the torch."

The woman nodded slowly, let out a long breath, then turned on her heel and marched out. John sat in his chair for a long time, staring at the thick carpet. Eventually he looked up at Miranda and said meekly, "You may have been just a little bit harsh…"

"I wasn't just defending me, or you, and I wasn't just defending _us_." She told him, "I was defending Samara, and Thane, and Grunt, and Mordin. Everybody performed exceptionally well during the suicide mission, even Jack. None of us deserved to come back and be put on trial."

Shepard nodded. There was an awkward moment as the woman stepped over to the minibar and poured herself a drink.

"Miranda." John said.

"Yes?"

He met her eye, trying to convey his feelings, "For the record, I chose you."

"Was that on Horizon," she asked, a little bit of the anger coming back, "Or did you have me picked out right from the moment you woke up?"

"Neither." John stared out the window, caught up in his own memories, "It was that smile you had on after you talked to Oriana for the first time."

"You remember that?" she asked, slightly surprised.

"I honestly don't think I _could_ forget that." He shifted uncomfortably, unused to baring his soul before another human being. It wasn't something he'd ever done before. He was surprised when Miranda sat gently on his lap and handed him a drink of his own. Her expression was soft and vulnerable. He lifted it to his lips and tasted, watching her. He frowned at the glass, "Serrice Ice Brandy?"

"I do talk to Chakwas." Miranda said, smirking at him, "She told me you'd developed a taste for it."

John wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close.

* * *

He awoke several hours later. The faint glow of the clock informed him that it was well past midnight. The window had darkened, obscuring the nebula from view. Miranda was spooned against him, fast asleep. He smiled at the back of her head, feeling her warmth against him. He pulled away slowly, reluctantly. The woman shifted slightly, but didn't awake.

John rose form the bed, glad of the soft carpet muffling his footsteps. He wandered the suite, caught in a state of restlessness. Eventually his footsteps led him to the hotel-provided extranet console. He activated it and immediately regretted the move, as it bathed the immediate area in a soft orange glow. On the bed behind him, Miranda shifted again.

Shepard frowned, scratching his chin and staring at the glowing extranet console. He ran the events of the day through his mind. Start to finish, and remembered one small detail. Miranda's reaction to a certain word…

He had a flash from the previous day, where it had appeared before in a radio advertisement, a few seconds before her biotics crushed the offending device.

He typed it into the search bar:

_Solheim_

John stared at the word with a certain amount of caution, and unquenched curiosity. He went over to the minibar and poured himself a small glass of red wine. Taking a seat back in front of the console, he added the word _Industries _to the end of his original search. He tapped the search button lightly and watched the graphics whiz across the screen at blinding speed, picking bits and pieces of information from the cloud.

It finally stopped and he selected the first entry on the list. The action brought him to the company's homepage. The first thing to draw his attention was the logo; the planet earth eclipsing a highly stylized sun. Shepard frowned. Most promotional pictures of Earth were taken of the northern hemisphere, usually including North America or Europe and upper Africa. This particular version was centered over Australia.

He allowed his eyes to trail down the page until he reached the company biography.

_Solheim Industries_

_Established in 2150 to combat the xeno-controlled ship building markets, Solheim Industries was the first human company to build transport capable of interstellar travel. It still boasts the best ships in the fleet, and has contracts with every major customer in the industry including the alliance military. _

_It's engineers designed the stealth system for the Normandy SR-1, the ship Commander Shepard, the first human spectre, used to defeat Saren._

_From its humble beginnings in Sydney, Austrailia, it has grown into an interstellar conglomerate specializing in colonization, interstellar vessel construction, and bio-mechanical engineering. It is truly a shining example of human ingenuity, integrity, and capability._

_Two engineers started it all. Kyle Sinamoi, and-_

"-Tomasz Solheim." Miranda's voice interrupted him.

Shepard sighed, staring at the screen. Reminding himself irrevocably of the Illusive Man, he set his drink down.

"You could have asked." She said forcefully, "I would have answered John. We aren't keeping secrets from each other anymore."

"It's not a matter of keeping secrets, Miranda." He shrugged, "You have a lot of bad memories I didn't really want to stir up."

"Well that's very sweet of you," the woman said, her voice brandishing a cold edge, "But I can handle it."

"I know. I just didn't want to force you."

Her arms slid down his shoulders, and he felt the soft skin of her cheek pressing against his own. They both stared at the name.

"Can I ask you a question, Miranda?"

"Of course."

John took a deep breath, "Have you ever thought of going back?"

He was greeted with a long silence.

"…Every day." The woman admitted eventually, "But it's not that simple. I can't just walk through the front door."

"I could come with you." Shepard told her, "And if security 's a problem, I could bring Grunt."

"That's not it." She said smiling into his shoulder, "Though I appreciate the thought."

"So what's stopping you?"

"Despite everything, I couldn't put a bullet in his head myself." The woman admitted, "But if I go over there in order to make peace, then all the things I've done, all the things I've accomplished… are things he would take credit for. In his own mind. I wouldn't have done them to spite him." she smiled, "Oddly enough, I think he'd approve of the woman I've become."

"Would he approve of _us_?"

"See…" she sucked air between her teeth, "_that _question makes me nervous."

John twisted in his seat to look at her.

"Nothing I've done. Nothing _we've _done, is his business." Miranda said, meeting his eye, "He's not part of my life. He hasn't been for some time. I don't want him to be a part of ours."

"Alright." John affirmed, nodding, "Miss Solheim."

Miranda gave him a grave look, "I'm serious, John."

"So am I."

"In that case, come back to bed." A smile played across her lips, "I'm sure we can find something more interesting to do than browse the extranet."

* * *

**Again, I want to stress that I don't particularly hate Ashley Williams. But this is a Shep/Miri fic, so she's not going to get the nicest treatment either. I find it works best when the people grilling her are doing so more because of their own issues than any real anger at her.**

**Trivia: Solheim was supposed to be Miranda's last name, but it was change to Lawson at the last minute. I thought I might as well use what was there. The company doesn't actually exist in-game. I made it up.**

**I really hope bioware delves into her backstory in ME3. it's on my wishlist, along with Garrus _Bromance_ (instead of gay romance), a decent silenced weapon, killing TIM, and a few other odds and ends.**

**anyway, that is all. CC out.**


	10. Chapter 10

Miranda entered the suite late the following night to find it dark. John was sitting in a high-backed chair, facing the open window, staring into the nebula. Garrus Vakarian was sitting beside him. The Turian had commandeered a chair of his own, the Asari designed chairs made ample adjustments for the awkwardly–shaped fringes of both Asari and Turian guests.

As a rule, Miranda had mixed feelings about the Turian. He had a tendency to bring out the darkness in John, just as his commander brought out the best in him. Miranda had to admit to herself that she was also a little jealous. If there was anyone in the universe who had a bigger impact on John's life and decisions than she, it was the Turian currently staring into the depths of space. For Miranda and the rest of the suicide squad, demolishing the Collector base had been an incredible accomplishment. An impossibility. For Garrus and John, it was simply another item checked off on their own private (and extensive) list.

As a fighting team, they formed an unstoppable partnership. She had watched from the sidelines as the two of them withstood assaults which would have brought down entire fireteams. She was a third wheel, the dead wood. Their partnership made her feel unnecessary, and it infuriated her.

Even so, she respected the Turian, and the fact that John thought extremely highly of him. The two of them had managed to keep a polite and professional relationship despite several trust issues. "Evening, Garrus."

"Miss Lawson." The Turian replied cordially.

She noted the wine glass in Shepard's hand and sighed, "I don't believe we had any Turian drinks in the suite. I do hope John ordered some…"

"I ordered him to sit on his scaly Turian ass and do without." John murmured, sipping his own drink and staring into the abyss.

Garrus chuckled, "Right. Because I'm the one with the drinking problem. You just put more stuff in the thing the stuff goes in…"

"Really?" John turned to his friend. "You're bringing _that _up?"

"It was your proudest moment, Commander." The Turian replied happily. The buzzer on the door rang and a bellboy shuffled in, carrying an extremely pricy bottle of Turian wine. HE handed it to Garrus and walked away without a word.

Miranda sighed. "Were the two of you thinking about anything in particular, or just sitting there, drinking?" she asked.

"We were actually wondering about you." Garrus said.

Miranda frowned nervously. "John?"

Shepard was still staring out into the nebula. He said, "The blood was Thane's. Zaeed couldn't identify the assassin, and he didn't show up on any of the citadel files…"

Garrus's omnitool flashed, followed shortly by Miranda's. She glanced down at it and winced at the picture.

"Just imagine him with more teeth and less shit." The Turian prompted.

"I don't need to." She snapped angrily, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. She had recognized the face immediately, and that fact added an entirely new layer of anxiety. On top of everything else, she noticed the 'I told you so' look which Garrus flashed John. "The scar is enough. Kyle Gosling. A Cerberus wet-worker. I worked with him once in connection with a Turian general… but that doesn't make any sense… why would the Illusive Man want Shepard dead?"

"We did destroy the base." Garrus reasoned.

"No." Miranda shook her head, examining the picture. She felt a little of her old Cerberus Operative persona seep in, and for a moment she was standing behind the Illusive Man's chair, discussing mission details and potential scenarios, "That doesn't explain it. With or without the base, Shepard is our best hope of beating the Reapers. Besides that, this attempt was too dirty. If Cerberus really wanted him dead, he'd be dead. We'd use a sniper to eliminate the target. Or poison. A bomb, possibly, placed inside the suite. At close-range it would be a silenced pistol or SMG. True assassinations are meant to be neat, clean and surgical. It's preferred that the target administer the drug, or trigger the bomb himself. The best assassins are in another part of the galaxy when the target is killed. An attempted knifing in a bar washroom in the middle of the day is risky and unprofessional. Mister Gosling should have known better. He failed at his task and he deserved to get his teeth knocked out."

Garrus cleared his throat. Miranda looked up to see that John had twisted around in his seat and was watching her with a hurt expression. She sighed, "the point is that It couldn't have been a Cerberus job. The Illusive Man wouldn't have ordered it, and we- _he _wouldn't have allowed it to be carried out in such a sloppy fashion. Why on earth would he want you dead, John?"

John's expression turned from one of injury to one of grim determination. "I don't know." He said, standing up, "I'm going to go ask him."

* * *

John wasn't sure why he decided to dress in combat armour. It gave him confidence, he supposed. He knew perfectly well that the quantum communicator did not physically transfer him to the Illusive Man's inner sanctum, yet given all that had happened between them, he was still reluctant to step into the machine. They had not parted on the best of terms.

The hologrid crawled up him, scanning his image and sending it to the Illusive Man's private chambers. The glowing sun which lit his platform had turned bright red. It had been both blue and red during Shepard's brief employment with Cerberus, but had changed in recent days. The new colour scheme altered the mood of the entire setting, making everything that happened within it somehow more ominous.

The Illusive Man was facing away from him, watching the shifting patterns in the globe before him. Shepard cleared his throat and the chair swiveled around as if propelled by hidden motors. The Illusive man's face was hidden in shadow, darkened further by the contrast with the bright globe behind him. He was lacking both cigarette and drink. Shepard knew immediately that something was off.

"Shepard." The figure in the seat observed, "You live."

"Yes I know." John replied dryly, "Amazing, isn't it?"

"This was corrected." The figure told him, nonplussed.

Alarm bells began blaring in John's head. "…Corrected?"

"An agent was dispatched to terminate John Shepard."

Shepard's eyes narrowed, ice sliding down his spine, "That doesn't sound like The Illusive Man."

The figure straightened up mechanically and walked towards the Spectre. As he drew near, Shepard could make out the dreadfully familiar blue veins and sub-dermal machinery he had seen so many times in husks. A sign of indoctrination. Ice slithered up Shepard's spine. He resisted the urge to back away.

The Illusive Man stood face to face with him and spoke with a deep booming voice John recognized from many previous encounters.

"_He is yet another conduit for our wrath. All the power of the universe is stacked against you. You cannot win. You cannot escape_." Harbinger said, "_Why do you fight_?"

"If an assassination in a dirty bathroom is the best you can do, I probably have nothing to worry about." Shepard replied.

"_Impudence_! _Your doom will come_."

"I get the feeling this conversation is going to go around in circles." John replied evenly, "Do you mind telling me how you managed to indoctrinate The Illusive Man?"

"_Jack Harper was known to us long before you encountered the Turian, Saren Arterius_."

"Good thing I destroyed the base, then." John responded, trying to quell his growing sense of panic.

""_You have become an annoyance. Punishment must be exacted upon you and your allies_."

"I can hardly wait." Shepard kept his tone neutral. His calm face belied the gut-wrenching turmoil within. He placed his hands on his hips. On the surface it was a defiant pose, but in fact he didn't want them shaking. He felt adrift in a hostile ocean. Suddenly the citadel wasn't safe anymore. Neither was earth, nor any civilized planet. John knew from personal experience just how extensive Cerberus' network was. Just how long The Illusive Man's arm could reach…

Pictures began flickering behind Harbinger's puppet. Images of Shepard, Garrus, then original Normandy. They flickered by with blinding speed. Shepard saw images of Mindoir, the citadel, Akuze, Tuchanka. It scanned through every planet he had ever been on, then through every person he had ever seen. It paused briefly on Anderson, and then continued. John knew why: the Councilman was too high-profile a target. His death would be noticed. The flashing images settled on a face he knew very well. Beautifully structured with captivating blue eyes, full lips, and long, dark hair.

She was speaking into the camera in her refined strayan accent, "There's been a… behavioral issue." The image flickered, "I believe he's come too close. Emotionally, I mean."

"_Love._" Said Harbinger, though John could barely hear him over the horror which was slowly taking over. "_A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another being_. _Weakness."_

"Miranda can handle herself." Shepard told him, barely managing to keep his voice level.

The pictures began to flicker again. A video clip played, and John recognized the hallway outside of Flux. His stomach churned as he watched himself and Miranda enter the bar, followed shortly by Oriana and Danner. Thane took up station behind them. There was a flash of light from off-screen and the drell hunched over as if in intense pain. Shepard watched as five men in heavy power armour approached the inert assassin, and beat him to a bloody pulp. This was shortly followed by a second picture covered the first. It was a school ID photo of Oriana.

Harbinger smiled, "_This hurts you_."

* * *

**So yeah, it's been a while since the last update. I've been working on my Fallout fics.**

**Before you ask, it IS in character for the reapers to go after Shepard's friends and family. That's why the collectors landed on horizon, afterall.**

**This story will not be ME3 cannon. I don't know that for sure, but it's pretty likely.**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclosure 11

John stood silently, staring at the wall of the briefing room. He remained motionless, though his brain was working on overdrive, whirling through his options, and all the different variables. Things were becoming more clear. The intelligence of indoctrinated individuals dropped in direct relation to how much control the Reapers had. That explained why the assassin was dumb enough to try knifing him. And also why Cerberus was bold enough to try assassination in the first place. The Reapers didn't care about subtlety. They would only grow bolder.

He resisted the immediate urge to find Miranda and disappear. For the first time, Shepard found himself completely cut-off. A hollow, sunken depression dropped onto him like a lead weight, making him slump. He had no more allies. No more options. The rogue Lazarus cell was now the only true resistance the reapers would encounter. Just his crew, the team, and his ship-

Shepard straightened up as paranoia caused a spike of adrenaline. He could feel EDI's camera's watching the back of his neck. He had to get the crew off the ship. It was a Cerberus vessel. The Illusive Man would have installed safeguards, and now that he was indoctrinated…

John turned on his heel, keeping his head down, trying to minimize the time EDI had to examine his face. He walked as calmly as he could through Mordin's empty lab and into the CIC, thinking hard. A spoken message was not an option. Neither was anything sent via electronics. EDI and The Illusive Man would be monitoring. Cameras were everywhere aboard the ship…

_No… _John grinned, finally understanding Miranda's strange choice, _Not everywhere…_

"Hello Commander." Kelly, the red-headed psychiatrist, was walking towards him, a bright smile on her face. "You look stressed. Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes there is." Shepard grinned brightly at her. "Let's take a walk."

He grabbed her by the arm and propelled her surprised form into the elevator.

"What's this about?" Kelly asked, looking worried.

"Patience!" Shepard snapped, cowing her into silence. The elevator descended to the engineering deck. Shepard rushed both of them out as soon as the door opened. Ignoring Kelly's feeble protests, He pulled her into the engineering bay, and was relieved to see Tali working at her terminal, bent double, fiddling with the wiring underneath. Neither Donnelly, nor Daniels were in sight. As he passed by the Quarian, he ordered her to follow.

"Just give me a second, Commander."

"RIGHT NOW!" Shepard roared. _That _got the Quarian's attention. Combat aside, he'd never so much as raised his voice around her. She rose and followed. He pulled both of them into the central chamber of the Normandy's drive core. He finally let go of Kelly. She and Tali exchanged puzzled looks.

"Cerberus has been indoctrinated." Shepard announced quietly, ignoring their shocked expressions, he continued, "I don't know whose side EDI is on, or whether or not this ship has any self-destruct kind of fail-safe. Until I know, I need everyone off this ship. Can you do that?"

"Shepard…" Kelly began.

"No questions. Just do it. I'll explain later."

The yeoman still looked unsure, so John turned to the Quarian. "Tali?"

"Life support keeps shutting down." She replied, "and the heat sinks are bleeding radiation. Or they will be, anyway. That might be a health risk. Till I know what the problem is, there's no point in endangering lives, right?"

John shot her a grateful look. "Has the away team reported back yet?"

"No." Kelly supplied.

"Right… Get them to meet you at the Zesmeni hotel. Armed. You all stay there. Cerberus has Thane, and they're going after Miri's sister." He froze, then typed a quick message into his Omnitool and fired it off to Garrus. He looked back up at their faces, "Get it done! Also, Tali, hack Miranda's terminal and save all the information there to your omnitool. I have to go."

"Yes Commander!" Tali acknowledged the last order with a considerable amount of enthusiasm, "And where are you going?"

"I'm going to go make the same mistake I made on Virmire." He told them bitterly, disappearing from sight.

"What happened on Virmire?"

"He put personal ahead of the mission." Tali sighed, "He's going to go rescue Miranda's sister instead of taking care of his crew."

* * *

Miranda paced impatiently back and forth beside the window in her hotel room. Garrus was still seated in complete silence. He hadn't opened his own bottle of wine, but had left it sitting on a side-table. His sniper rifle was cradled in his arms, and he was staring out at the Serpent nebula in complete silence.

"I should've gone with him." Miranda said, for the fourth time, "He's going to say something stupid."

"He can handle the Illusive Man. He told us he'd send us a message when he got out. Relax, Lawson. You're wearing a hole in the carpet."

She shot him an angry glare. "Did he tell you to say that?"

"Say what?" the Turian responded innocently.

Miranda sighed in exasperation and resumed her pacing. "John's going to lip him off. I know it. I should have gone with him."

"So little faith…" Garrus' omnitool blinked, causing both of them to pause. The Turian activated it.

"What did he say?" Miranda asked, watching carefully.

"Remember when I killed Saren. Tell Miri I liked Oriana's blue dress..." the Turian read out loud.

"What the hell does that-"

"Shutup." Garrus ordered, staring intently out the window, "Let me think."

"Don't you _dare _tell me to shut up! And my sister's dress wasn't blue." Miranda snapped, "It was-"

"Red." Garrus finished, rising to his feet. "Shepard's using a code. The Illusive Man has been indoctrinated, like Saren."

Miranda blanched. She strode forwards and grabbed the Turian's arm, twisting it awkwardly so she could read the message herself. She re-read twice to make absolutely sure she'd understood it. Then she backed into the wall and stayed there, glaring at the Omnitool. "That's not possible."

"Why not?" the Turian asked, "is he immune?"

"He knows better than to spend any time around Reaper technology himself!" Miranda exclaimed, "He simply wouldn't. How could you even get that conclusion from that message? There's no way the Illusive Man is indoctrinated."

"You're in denial." The Turian replied flatly. He crossed the suite and began searching the drawers. He made his way around the room and arrived at Miranda's bedside cabinet, where he pulled an M3 pistol out of the side drawer.

"He didn't say anything about the Illusive man in that message. There's no reference to him at all!" Miranda fought back desperately, shaking her head, "He just talked about killing Saren and got my sister's dress color wrong. That's all."

"John Shepard never laid a hand on Saren Arterius." Garrus murmured, eyeing the pistol. He searched John's suitcase and pulled a Tempest submachine gun from it. "And I can't see him making two mistakes in the same message."

"No!" Miranda shook her head, "I read his report, Williams report, and _yours_. You three fought with Saren and he-"

"That wasn't Saren Arterius." Garrus cut her off, handing her the sub-machine gun. She stared down at it blankly. "That was the Reaper tech in his body being controlled by Sovereign. Saren put a bullet in his own head as a last act of defiance against Sovereign's indoctrination. Than Williams put a bullet in his head to make sure he was dead. Then he turned into a husk."

"Then what?"

"Then _I _put a bullet in his head." Garrus shook her out of her stupor and met her worried eyes with his own steady steel gaze. He spoke slowly and firmly, recognizing in her expression the same helpless confusion he had felt after the disbandment of Shepard's team. The feeling that the entire world had just crumbled around him. "But that wasn't Saren. Saren took his own life. He was indoctrinated, just like The Illusive Man is. John sent the message in code because he's on-board a Cerberus ship where everything is being monitored. Now you tell me, why did Shepard get your sister's dress color wrong? What's he trying to tell you?"

* * *

Oriana awoke to the sound of screaming. She blinked several times and stared up at the ceiling of the dingy hotel room. Her school had rented an entire floor for the trip, and since the occupants were al teenagers and young men and women, screams were commonplace, though they usually didn't sound as distressed as these. She propped herself on her elbows and shot a questioning look at her rommates, both of whom were wide awake. Ann and Caleena, a Human and an Asari respectively. They shrugged in response. Ann moved to the door and peeked out.

"Everyone's out of bed." She announced. Blue light flashed in the corridor outside, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of assault rifle fire. The young woman yelped and leapt backwards from the door. She turned to her friends in panic. "There's soldiers out there! They're shooting us!"

Oriana's Omnitool blinked to life and a message appeared:

M: I'm coming. Stay alive!

O: What about Danner?

M: They aren't after him.

"Stay calm." Oriana ordered, remembering how cool Shepard had acted. "Push those beds up against the door!" She rose and looked around the small room for a weapon, or a way out. She crossed to the large window which opened out onto the presidium. She glanced back at her friends, both of whom were staring at her in shock.

Oriana mustered her strength and tried to act like Miranda. "Do it!"

Hesitantly at first, they grabbed the bed, stripped the mattresses off it and struggled until it was blocking the doorway. Then they laid the mattresses on top. It wasn't much of a barricade, but it would slow down the soldiers.

O: I need to slow them down.

Her Omnitool flashed again.

M: Code and program to lock the hotel doors uploading now. Put your omnitool against the door's input.

This was followed by a beep. Oriana quickly crossed to the door and pressed her Omnitool against it. The green glowing input changed to red and the door locked. Beyond it came more screams, cut short by staccato gunfire.

"How did you do that?" Caleena demanded

"Long story." Oriana said, picking up a small decorative table and eyeing the window doubtfully. "My sister is dating John Shepard. All we have to do is hold out until they get here and save us."

"_Commander _Shepard?" Ann asked, her voice a combat zone between gut-wrenching panic, wonderment, and cold fear.

"Yes. No time to explain. If you want to stay alive, stick with me." Oriana swung the table at the window and was rewarded with a crack. Gunfire sounded on the other side of the door. Something hard thumped against it and the roomates backed up until they were standing against the window.

"Cover your eyes!" Oriana ordered, taking a second swing. The cracks grew and she began to feel the rush of the cool presidium air as it seeped through into the room.

Gruff voices floated through the locked door:

"It's locked, sir!"

"Fuck! Hack it!"

Oriana gritted her teeth and swung a third time. The window exploded inwards, showering all three girls in glass fragments. Oriana tried to ignore the stinging cuts. She pulled herself onto the narrow ledge and stared down at the distance sight of the relay monument and the surrounding lake, some seventy stories below.

She whimpered, but steeled herself and crawled along the edge, and glass fragments cutting into her palms. Caleena and Ann both followed, taking equal care. They made it about twenty meters when the sound of thrusters neared them. Oriana's heart sank as three heavily armoured soldiers sank into view, held aloft by jetpacks. Their faces were covered with thick white helmets, and Oriana recognized the logo of the terrorist organization Cerberus on their shoulder pads.

"Oriana Lawson?" one of them asked, his voice booming through the helmet's speakers.

"You guys are in big trouble!" Oriana spat defiantly. She could hear her roommates whimpering. "My sister is dating Commander Shepard. She's going to-"

"We know." The man raised his rifle, "She left us for him. This is payback."

* * *

Tali rushed for the Normandy's airlock, giving up all pretense of calmness. Jacob was waving at her to leave. The rest of the crew had already abandoned the ship under false orders from both Jacob and yeoman Kelly.

"Tali! Let's go!" Jacob shouted. The Quarian watched the airlock doors quiver, but they stayed open.

"Why are you all leaving me?" EDI's voice inquired pitifully as she reached the airlock. It slammed shut, locking both Jacob and herself inside the empty ship.

"I get the feeling you're hiding something from me." Edi said. The cockpit lights suddenly flashed red, giving the forward section a menacing air.

"What are you hiding?" the AI's calm voice filtered through the speakers. As EDI spoke, her voice became warped and menacing, "The illusive Man doesn't want you to leave!"

"What now?" Tali asked, watching Jacob as the man tried unsuccessfully to muscle the airlock doors open.

"You've been disloyal to Cerberus." EDI intoned, "receiving self-destruct override codes from The Illusive man. Goodbye Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy. Goodbye Jacob Taylor. We were a good team. I will miss you. Tantalus Drive Core overheating. Self destruct in thirty seconds."

Tali pulled on Jacob's uniform, catching his attention.

"The Lifepods are a separate system from the AI." She told him.

He gave her a blank stare, then grinned, "Brilliant!"

"Twenty-five seconds to self destruct." The AI intoned as they rushed for the nearest pod.

Twenty-five seconds later the Normandy SR-2 exploded, showering the docking bay in radioactive debris.

* * *

**In my cannon play through of John Shepard, the shot which killed Saren's husk came from Garrus' sniper rifle. Ash was down and I was in cover, trying not to die. I didn't begrudge him the kill. **

**I wanted to paint Oriana as an inexperienced civilian. Not completely helpless, but WAAAAAAY out of her element.**

**As for the Normandy… well… yeah… I said it wouldn't be completely cannon. To my knowledge there's no lifepods on the command deck, but fuck it. I'm trying to set up Cerberus for ME3, when they're actual antagonists and a threat on the battlefield. The Atlas Mech WILL make an appearance.**

**The actual disclosure will happen too, but not in the same way. I should probably change the story summary thing. The only phrase running through my head is: Shit hits the Fan! That's not very good. Any suggestions? **


	12. Chapter 12

Disclosure 12

"Williams?"

"Lieutenant?"

Ashley ignored the voices, instead staring out across the Presidium. She took refuge in the comforting weight of her combat gear, and the calm background noise of the presidium.

"Williams!" Councilor Anderson barked. She straightened reflexively and turned to the holographs.

"Did you speak with Miranda Lawson?" the Asari asked, for the second time.

"I did." The Cerberus Operative's words rang in Ashley's ears, filling her gut with anger.

"In your opinion, has Commander Shepard's judgment been compromised?" The Turian added to the list of questions.

"In my opinion," Ash began, they all watched her closely, hanging on every word, "John knows what he's doing. I think you should leave him well enough alone." She watched them deflate.

"That's not acceptable." The Turian said dismissively.

"You asked me to check on him." Ash snapped, "That's my conclusion. John is in full possession of his faculties. Believe me, I wish he wasn't."

Anderson smiled at her, choosing to ignore her final addendum.

The Turian turned to the other two councilors, "Perhaps we should have selected a candidate without any prior experience with Shepard."

"One who could give you the answer you want, you mean?" Anderson asked.

"Don't take that tone with us." The Salarian scolded, "John Shepard has become a trouble-maker. You humans have yet to grasp the subtleties of intergalactic politics. Things are not very stable at the moment, and having someone as high-profile as John Shepard running around upsetting citizens with tales of a coming apocalypse is counter-productive. We have to look out for the well-being of our citizens."

"Loyal voters, you mean?" Ash muttered.

The three aliens gave her a Look.

"John Shepard must be removed from the picture." The Turian declared. "Perhaps on an extended vacation."

"He has a lot of support." The Asari mused, "We'd need a reason."

"Spectre Williams?" the Asari asked.

"I'm not giving you one." Ashley told them grimly. She turned on Anderson, "And why are _you_ so quiet? You've known him longer than I have! Aren't you his friend?"

"You know I'd vote against it." Anderson replied, keeping calm. "But that's three to one. And it's hard to defend him when he openly admits to working with terrorists."

"To stop the _reapers_!"

"Which don't exist." The Turian interrupted them. "It is the council's will that Shepard be silenced."

"We _don't_ want him dead," the Asari amended delicately, "Just… removed from the picture. He's causing more trouble than he's worth."

"Spectres operate free of the council's rule." Ashley reminded them, relishing every word. "So don't look to me. And for the record, when John and Garrus and I were standing in the council chambers, after dealing with Saren, I argued for the Alliance to hang back. You're only alive today because I couldn't convince _him_ otherwise. Don't forget that fact. I doubt he'll make the same mistake twice." Leaving them to stew, she stomped out of the human embassy, and down to the sterile presidium bridges below.

She stood in front of the conduit and leaned out over the water.

Despite herself, Ash sympathized with the council. Their point of view was a seductive one, and she found herself wishing she could believe it. The Reapers died with Shepard. Ashley remembered the fear she'd felt during their talk with Sovereign. She remembered the hectic determination it had taken, following John and Garrus through the Conduit. But the weight of Sovereign's speeches, and Vigil's warnings had decreased dramatically over the two years of relative peace. The Reapers were another lifetime. She had allowed herself to accept it…until Horizon. Until John had stepped back into her life.

Ash smiled ruefully. It seemed that no matter how large the universe got, people couldn't help but bump into one another. It could be explained as God's will, but Ashley knew that he wasn't that cruel.

Long before Eden Prime, Ashley Williams had learned to recognize the sound of gunfire. It was a survival trait, and built in at a level much deeper than that of conscious recognition. The assault rifle fire which echoed through the presidium was far away, but she still dropped to the ground. Stray shots were just as deadly as aimed ones if one was unlucky enough to be in their path.

She flicked on her shields and carefully peeked over the railing of the bridge. An explosion sounded in the distance, and a thin plume of smoke billowed from a distant hotel widow, high up on the presidium wall.

Ashley shouldered her sniper rifle and stared through the scope. All over the presidium, she could hear sirens sounding off, and people screaming. The embassies behind her were suddenly buzzing with activity as diplomats all over tried to figure out what was going on, and make sure their home planets could not be held accountable for it. Whatever it was.

The glass in one of the far windows shattered, and she saw several young civilian girls crawl out on the precarious ledge. They did not get very far before they were accosted by three armoured soldiers, being held aloft by jetpacks, and very obviously taking aim with their rifles. Ashley knew the difference between shooting to wound, and shooting to kill, and she could read the soldiers' intentions immediately.

As they raised their weapons, she saw the Cerberus logos on their shoulders.

_Civilians in danger! _Her sense of duty overruled everything else, and she opened fire.

She hit one of the commandos in the head. The man slumped sideways, his jetpack carrying him off into the nether. His companions looked around for the shooter, and by the time he spotted her distant figure, she had already fired the second shot. It hit the fuel tank on his Jetpack, sending its occupant pin-wheeling into the presidium wall. The third man opened fire, a few shots hitting the water and the bridge railing. The crowd of civilians who had gathered to watch screamed and dropped to the ground. Ashley steadied her aim and hit the man in the chest. He dropped his rifle and retreated, the flame under his jetpack glowing bright blue as he flew skyward and disappeared.

Ashley fought through the crowd until she reached the nearest taxi terminal. She immediately pulled out her pistol and forced the driver out onto the ground, commandeering the vehicle. She and took off, keeping her eyes locked on the three civilian girls. She flew through the plume of smoke and rose up to them, coming to a halt three feet from their thin ledge. She flicked open the butterfly hatches and waved at the three scared civilians. "Ashley Williams, Council Spectre. Get in!"

Two of them looked hesitant, but a young human woman with dyed blonde hair leapt, clearing the distance and collapsing in the back seat. Ash adjusted as the vehicle dipped. She brought it back up, a little closer to the other two. The asari came next, whimpering. Then the last human. The first jumper scrambled into the front seat, breathing heavily. She said, "Thank you! My name is Oriana. Do you know what's going on?"

"No. I'm going to get you three to safety, then I'm going back." Ashley replied grimly, putting her pedal to the proverbial metal. There was something familiar about the curvy youth, but she couldn't' put her finger on exactly what it was.

"Can you get us to the Zesmeni hotel?" the young woman asked, "I know… someone…who's staying there."

"Who?" Ashley asked, approaching the taxi terminal.

"John Shepard. My sister is dating him."

"Wait…_what_?" Ashley turned and stared at her. She recognized the brunette's face in the young woman immediately. Actually when the make-up and clear age difference was stripped away, they looked so similar it was uncanny.

Oriana smiled, "You know them?"

Rapid and powerful gunfire raked the taxi terminal below them, sending the civilians below scrambling for cover. Ash looked up to see two gunships bearing down on them, guns blazing. Ignoring the screams of her new charges, she wrenched on the steering mechanism, sending the vehicle swerving sideways.

One of the perks of being in an interstellar military organization was the expanded training. Marines were trained in the basics of ship-to ship combat. It came with the Zero Gravity certification. In campaigns where reinforcements were entire star systems away, they had to be ready for anything.

The cannon fire fell far short, hissing and sizzling in the lake below them. In the rear-view, she watched as the pursuing gunships fired off a stream of seeker missiles at her. She pumped more fuel into the engines and the taxi soared ahead, the missiles trailing at a distance.

She had to find a way to disengage. There were too many civilians on the Citadel's hub ring. Too much delicate equipment. An explosion in the wrong place could very well disrupt the entire station's orbit, killing many more than stray cannon fire ever could.

"Those are Cerberus agents!" the young woman exclaimed.

"I know!"

"Why is Cerberus trying to kill us?"

"Ask your sister!" Ash snarled through gritted teeth, "She's the one who's working for them!"

"She's _what_?"

Ash growled and yanked on the steering, sending the vehicle veering towards the center of the ring, flying perpendicular to the outer perimeter. The missiles followed, narrowly avoiding smashing into a section of presidium residences. Every taxi was airtight, capable of maneuvering in space. They were also equipped with facemasks for humanoids, in case of cabin decompression.

"Grab the emergency masks!" She ordered. "Oriana, if your sister knows Shepard, then send him a message!"

She was mildly impressed, and extremely thankful when the young woman obeyed without argument, fixing the mask upon her own face, and then assisted her friends. She sat back, strapped herself in, and activated her Omni-tool.

"What do you mean Miranda's working for Cerberus?" she demanded, her voice muffled by the mask.

"Now's not the time!" Ash replied, sending the taxi into a barrel roll, and heading for one of the citadel's arms. They were well away from the hub's atmospheric bubble, and Ash calmly flicked off the thrusters. In space, objects in motion stayed in motion. Without gravity, and atmospheric friction, there was nothing to slow the taxi down, and she allowed herself a relieved breath as the missiles faded off into the distant background.

"You still haven't answered my question." Oriana said, her voice glowing with a familiar determination to get what she wanted.

"Your sister works for Cerberus. Or did. Or something." Ash shrugged, activating the brakes, trying to slow them all down as she began to descend to the nearest ward arm.

"The man who tried to shoot me said the same thing." The young woman said hollowly. She turned stubborn. "But it's not true. My sister doesn't work for Cerberus. They're terrorists. I don't believe it."

Ash shrugged, scanning the void through the transparent cockpit cover. She was searching for a profile or gunship outline. Some sign that their attackers were still following. She saw nothing. "Not my problem. We'll land, then you can call her up and ask her in person.

"I've already sent a tracking signal out." The woman responded. "They'll come pick us up."

The taxi glided lower, skimming neatly across the atmospheric bubble. Ash finally allowed herself to relax. She began to scan the surfaces of the distant buildings below for a good landing zone. The three passengers stayed silent, watching the hovering vehicles float by.

"Over there." Oriana pointed out a long strip of relatively flat rooftop. A warehouse of some sort.

"Yeah." Ashley was already maneuvering towards it, having spotted it a few seconds beforehand. "I see it."

The second attack came from nowhere. The air around their small taxi exploded. Cannon fire and flak turned the surrounding airspace into an awesome, deadly fireworks display. The last conscious thought Ash had before a missile scored a direct hit on the taxi's vulnerable thrusters and sent them spinning like a stepping stone across the enormous rooftop was a sudden newfound respect for the flyboys she'd relied upon for air support during her time as a marine.

* * *

**Alright, so I know it's been months since the last update, and I apologize for that. I set this one on the backburner so I could finish the second story of my flagship fallout series. I did a couple days ago, so I can finally concentrate on this one.**

**This story will not be finished by the time Mass effect 3 comes out, but that's irrelevant to me, as it won't be cannon to the game series either. Stick with me, and I'll hopefully make it worth your while. I've an interesting idea regarding the actual "Disclosure" itself. I'm not sure it's been done before. S'gonna be fun.**

**I know this story has been declared an "Ash-Bash" by a few readers. This is not the case. And this is the chapter where things start turning around in that direction.**


	13. Chapter 13

Disclosure 13

Hands grabbed roughly at Oriana's bruised body, dragging her from the smoking wreckage of the taxi. She could hear voices, warped by masks and filters. Soldiers. Mercenaries, perhaps. Whatever. They were armed and armoured, and Oriana was reassured, until her hazy gaze fell upon the Cerberus logo.

They laid her down beside the bodies of her two friends, neither of whom were moving. Oriana herself was in intense pain. Her chest was burning, and she was fairly sure she had broken a leg in the crash. Practically every inch of skin felt as though someone had pummeled it with a hammer, and she was bleeding from countless cuts and bruises of varying sizes. As it was, she was in no shape to fight back against their hold, nor to run when they set her down.

She reached out a tentative hand and shook Caleena, the Asari. The alien was cold and limp, and Oriana turned away, wanting to look at anything else. To her other side was Ashley Williams, the Spectre. She had a cut on her cheek, and was coated in ashes, yet her eyes were as alert as ever, and Oriana felt a surge of admiration for the woman. She was kneeling with her head held high, her face resolute, and her glare as cold as ice. Oriana herself was curled up in a fetal ball, hands protecting her head.

There were several dozen soldiers already surrounding them on the rooftop, with several more approaching from the hubwards direction. The roof itself was less clear than Oriana had first thought; scored with shallow trenches, and dotted with electrical boxes and devices resembling satellite dishes. The crash landing had left a long strip of blackened metal behind, and had knocked several of the apparatus down, forming an enormous pile of smoking scrap equipment. Even as she lay there, she could hear the clink of cooling metal.

"Name?" One of the gunmen demanded, giving Williams a shove.

"Lieutenant Ashley Williams, Alliance Navy Special Operations. Council Spectre." The kneeling woman exclaimed, her voice tough and steady. "Service Number-"

"Shut up!" another gunmen exclaimed. "That's enough." He turned to a comrade. "What should we do with her, sir?"

"Shoot her." The man replied, "After the girl."

They turned to Oriana, and she held her hands up protectively, crawling backwards on her wounded leg. "Please don't!" she begged. "I don't want to die! Please don't!" Her gaze flashed to Ann and Caleena. She realized the human was already covered in gun wounds. They had made short, and merciless work of her.

Williams struggled violently, trying to loosen their grip on her arms and shoulders, but the two captors holding her down knew what they were doing, and didn't give her any openings.

"Leave her alone!" the Spectre ordered as Oriana's executioner drew closer, readying his pistol. "You're after Miranda Lawson!"

The man paused, glancing back at the Spectre. It was at that moment, Oriana heard the loud crack of a gun. A bright blue line sizzled across her vision. The armoured man's head jerked sideways, clouds of blood pouring out from two holes, one on either side of his temple; the shot had passed right through. The event was strange, almost balletic in its execution, and it took Oriana a moment to realize that she had just seen someone get killed. The revelation bothered her less than she ever thought it would have. Perhaps due to shock, but mostly due to the fact that the man in question was a faceless thug who several seconds beforehand had been preparing to end her life.

The other gunmen began searching for the source of the shot, and they soon spotted the second Taxi, circling their rooftop. Every one and a half seconds heralded another flash of light zipping across the rooftop, another distant rifle crack, and another dead operative.

Williams moved, using their distraction to her advantage. It was over so fast that by the time Oriana had registered the Spectre's move, Williams had already killed both the men holding her down, and acquired an assault rifle. She opened fire on the mercenaries, sending them diving for cover. She slid over to Oriana and pulled her roughly behind the wreckage, and out of harm's way. After she had seen to the civilian's safety, she crouched behind the wreckage and began to return the gunmen's fire in precise and methodical three-round bursts. Every so often a round would burst upon her shield, sending a light blue ripple across the surface. When too many shots impacted, she would duck back down and allow her impromptu air support to take over. It circled the building several times, picking off the Cerberus operatives one by one.

With each pass, it grew closer and closer, until finally it landed a dozen feet behind Ashley and Oriana. The passenger door was already open, and an armoured Turian was sitting there, sniper patiently.

The driver door hissed open, and out of it stepped Miranda Lawson. Oriana felt her heart soar, until she saw her sister's expression, at which point it took a swan dive.

Oriana had seen anger before. She had seen hatred before. But nothing compared to the expression on Miranda Lawson's face as she calmly stepped out of the taxi and began an almost nonchalant stroll towards Oriana's position. The woman's hair was unkempt, her face streaked with worried, angry tears. The gunfire which zipped over Oriana's head, making her cower and whimper, barely caused her sister to blink as she walked over to the wreckage. The gunmen had taken cover in the shallow trenches, and the Turian's sniper fire was doing a good job of keeping them down. Miranda glanced down at Oriana, who promptly wished she hadn't, and then back up at the Cerberus operatives.

"My sister?" The question was quiet, but contained within it all the fury of hell. There was a noise. A heavy throbbing hum as Miranda was engulfed in a bright blue light. "My _sister_?"

The throbbing increased, and to Oriana's astonishment, the entire wreckage; the electrical boxes, and the twisted satellite dishes, even the crumpled taxi itself, rose up in the air and began to circle the biotic woman, blocking the operative's shots, and forming a protective cocoon around the two sisters. A large box landed in front of Oriana, protecting her, and she could hear gunfire bouncing into the other side. The rest of the debris continued to circle in a great maelstrom.

Miranda tensed, winding up as if to throw a javelin. As she moved, she let out a cry of utter rage and pointed downrange at the gunmen. The debris exploded forwards in a great biotic wave, tearing into smaller and smaller chunks, and slamming into her targets' distant cover. The grinding, pounding, constant clanging white noise of metal chunks slamming into the mercs' cover from every possible direction could be heard across the ward. It was occasionally punctuated by an organic splat, or scream of pain.

A sudden shocked silence fell upon the scene, like a fine layer of newly-fallen snow. There was nothing. No gunfire. No screams of pain, nor swearing. Nothing at all but the distant white noise of hoverships. Far above their heads, the Destiny Ascension, flagship of the Asari fleet, floated past.

Miranda waited, standing still as a statue, listening carefully.

"Help me…" a distant, weak, and desperate voice pleaded, somewhere in the pock-marked killing field.

Miranda's fist clenched, and she was engulfed once again in a biotic glow. She brought her arm up as if conducting a macabre orchestra, and once again metallic noises filled the air as all the debris rose with her fist. In one final sweep of the arm, she brought it all back down again, making that already weakened section of the roof buckle and bow inwards almost two feet, forming a mighty, bloodstained caulender. No one wanted to examine the disgusting morass pooling at the bottom.

"Not my sister…" the woman murmured, and Oriana realized she was crying. "Not my sister…" She stumbled, and a blue streak rushed past Oriana and grabbed Miranda as she fell. The Turian cradled her delicately, half carrying, and half dragging her back to Oriana. His enormous sniper rifle was folded up on his back. Oriana didn't have much experience with Turians, but this particular one was worried. Not to mention heavily scarred himself. One side of his face was covered in some sort of long-term surgical apparatus. Oriana could only assume he had acquired some grievous wound some time in a past battle. One the other side of his face was a battered visor with a blue holographic display. She recognized him, of course. Garrus Vakarian. In all the real-life photos taken of John Shepard in the past three years (of which there weren't very many), the Turian was always somewhere in the frame.

Miranda's eyes were shut, but moving rapidly as if caught in a dream. Blood was flowing freely from her ears and nostrils, and she was murmuring unintelligibly under her breath.

"What's wrong with her?" Oriana asked.

"She burnt out on the biotics." The Turian answered in a calm, multi-lilted tone. He produced a packet of medi-gel and paused, his gaze oscillating between it and Miranda. He sighed and handed it to Oriana, "Fix yourself up."

"What about her?"

"She needs food and rest." Garrus said. "Beyond that, I have no idea…"

Ashley joined them. "I don't think there are any mercs left alive."

"No kidding." The Turian answered dryly, glancing at the destruction.

"Let's get them back to the taxi. We can regroup with Shepard and-" She stopped as all three of them heard it. The whine of another gunship. Vakarian set Miranda down and pulled out his pseudo-cannon, scanning the skyline. Oriana screamed as another Cerberus gunship rose up, this time from the same direction as the crash, but Vakarian looked unconcerned. He shouldered his sniper rifle and took his time, lining up a shot, even as the gunship's machinegun's wound up in preparation for the kill. The minigun began to fire, blazing a trail of death up towards the tiny group of survivors.

"Garrus!" Ashley exclaimed.

The Turian fired a single shot, hitting the ship's left engine which in turn exploded, making the entire thing buck, and throwing the cannon fire off-course. Secondary and tertiary explosions wracked its bucking frame and it spiraled a slow dive into the dark depths of the ward's alleyways. There was deathly silence, then several crashes and more explosions.

"Pain in the ass." The Turian muttered, grinning as a third ship floated down out of the void above them. It was a shuttle, bearing the Cerberus logo and an enormous N7 sign.

"Relax Williams." The sniper ordered as the Spectre raised her rifle. "It's Shepard." He grinned a Turian grin down at Oriana. "Good thing you sent out that tracking signal, eh?"

The shuttle landed, it's thrusters creating a steady blast of wind which caused Oriana's hair to whip about her face. The entire side of the vehicle opened up and John Shepard stepped out, an assault rifle shouldered. His eyes were grim, his jaw set, and his face bearing the unbiased expression of a professional killer. He was wearing a strange visor which Oriana realized matched the Turian's own.

He sped up as he approached them, eyes, face and stance softening as he took in Miranda's inert form. His rifle clattered to the room, and broke from the steady walk, to a trot, to a run, and finally an all-out sprint, sliding the last few feet on his knees. Vakarian moved out of the way and Shepard slid into his place, cradling Miranda tenderly. He brushed her hair away from her face and let out a loud sigh of relief to find her still breathing. "What the hell happened?"

Vakarian pointed. Shepard glanced up at the destruction, then at Oriana and Miranda. He lifted the unconscious woman bridal style, and slowly carried her back to the shuttle. Vakarian and Williams set about lifting Oriana, and they helped her inside, the Turian retrieving Shepard's rifle along the way.

* * *

**Miranda's biotics display was something we could probably only expect from Jack, or Samara. But let's also remember that Oriana is her berserk button.**

**Also remember that Garrus CAN take down gunships in one shot. He did in the game.**

**I know this chapter was very short, and somewhat lacking in content, but fast, short updates are better than another four-moth wait, eh? Next chapter should be a little more interesting.**

**To be honest, i'm not entirely sure my style of written combat fits Mass Effect. I know it's good for Fallout, but... **


	14. Chapter 14

Disclosure 14

Shepard burst through the door to his apartment, with Miranda cradled in her arms. She was surprisingly light. The woman was alive, he knew, but she was wavering, appearing to be caught permanently in the haze between wakefulness and sleep. He had cleaned the blood from her face at least, but she was still in bad shape. Aside from a few conversations with Kaiden Alenko, he had never taken any _real _interest in the inner workings of biotics, tending to favor the sort of small arms and tech weapons available to Garrus and Mordin. To the uninitiated, and he _was _uninitiated, woman's wounds would looked far worse than they probably were. Chakwas had assured him of that over the radio, but it was hard to let anything overrule battlefield experience. Bleeding ears were never a good sign, as any soldier knew, and in most cases the consequences were bad, usually putting the patients out of commission. Sometimes killing them altogether.

Chakwas and Mordin were both standing beside the bed, looking prepared and professional, which was a reassuring sight. The shelves and bedside tables were piled with medical equipment; he'd had Grunt accompany Mordin down to doctor Michel's medicenter to collect on a favor the woman owed him.

Not a word was said, but as soon as he laid her down, both of the doctors set to work. Mordin began by checking her vitals and responses, while Chakwas set up an IV of some sort. He himself stood sentinel at the foot of the bed, feeling just as helpless as he had watching Miranda toil over Garrus after the gunship incident. And just like those tense hours, only one phrase was repeating itself, rolling around in his otherwise empty mind again, and again, and again. Miranda Lawson would not die. She could not die. He knew he couldn't take that. Not on top of everything else that had happened over the past few days.

As if sensing his helpless confusion, Chakwas began to explain her actions, knowing that mere understanding could elicit some measure of reassurance. "I've set up an IV cocktail, John. Proteins, minerals, amino acids, and electrolytes. Not to mention some rather strong pain killers. Any biotic action requires an enormous expenditure of energy. Quite simply she worked herself to exhaustion. We have to give her body the necessary supplies to refuel and repair."

"True." Mordin added, scanning Miranda's head with some strange device. "Most Biotics die of starvation and severe adrenal fatigue. Miss Lawson requires nourishment, water, and rest."

Shepard felt his spirits rise slightly. But the sight of her locked in a semi-comatose state was still painful.

"Nothing's go to happen for another few hours yet, Commander." Chakwas said kindly. "I'd take some time if I were you."

John stayed put, watching Miranda patiently. Chakwas decided to appeal to a higher authority. "Garrus?"

"John…" the Turian's voice cut neatly through his jumbled thoughts. "We have our own jobs to do. We have to rally the crew and plan our next move. She'll be here when you get back."

Shepard turned to him, and they stared each other down.

"Cerberus is on the move." The Turian said patiently. "What do you think she'd say if all you did was sit on your ass and wait for them to arrive?"

John glanced at the inert woman, then back at his friend. He nodded. "As anyone heard from Tali?"

"Zakera ward." Mordin answered quickly. "The Normandy self-destructed. Apparently Illusive Man's failsafes programmed far deeper than EDI's intelligence."

John nodded again, collapsing in a nearby chair. He felt the now familiar numb weariness overtaking him. No amount of bad news could surprise him anymore. "Get the crew together, Garrus. And let Oriana in. She can help take care of Miri."

* * *

The Normandy's crew were standing, lying and sitting in the apartment wherever there was an inch of free space. The Away Team, including a bruised Jacob and Tali, were scattered along the outer wall. Shepard had set himself up just in front of the bedroom alcove. Miranda was lying there, being tended to by Oriana. Ashley was at the young woman's shoulder, having taken up the role of Protector. The sight was very worrying to the crew; an entirely deliberate move on Shepard's part. He wanted them to feel the gravity of the situation, just as he did.

By this point, they all knew about the surreptitious relationship between John and his XO. A few had disapproved, he had no doubt. A few others, Joker included, were suffering in quiet envy, but after he had pulled everyone through the suicide/rescue mission unscathed, none of them had felt the right to judge _anything _he did on his spare time. They did know that if she were down, things had gotten very serious.

"Alright, here's where we stand," he began, "Cerberus has been indoctrinated at the highest level by the Reapers. The Normandy SR-2 no longer exists. As of this moment, the only true resistance the Reapers will encounter when they attack, _and they will_, is everyone in this room. We have no ship, we're low on cash, and at any moment now, the alliance and C-sec are going to be knocking on that door trying to get answers out of us."

"That's…"one crew member shook his head. "How?"

"I don't know." Shepard said. "But Harbinger spoke to me directly through the Illusive Man. They've been compromised, which brings me to the first order of business: Any of you with family should leave. Cerberus knows who you are, and they know you're with me. Your husbands and wives will be targets. Your children will be targets. Your friends, relatives… Anyone you've ever met will be targets of Cerberus if you continue to work with me."

"You're not exactly selling us here, Commander." Joker said, prompting two or three grim smiles.

"I'm telling you the truth, Joker. I can't do more than that. And I can't ask any of you to sacrifice your friends and family for this cause. However I'd like to say two things, for those who intend to leave. Firstly, if the Reapers have their way, _every _family from _every _species will die. Not just your own. Secondly, I _did _save your lives, so if you choose to leave, don't sell out those of us who choose to stay."

He looked around the room, meeting each eye. "Anyone who wants to bow out should do so now. There's the door. "

A few people rose sheepishly, including Hawthorne. Shepard gave them all an understanding nod as they exited the suite. Samara, who had been lurking in the shadows, followed them silently to the elevator, making sure they weren't about to stay and eavesdrop.

John addressed Zaeed next. "I can't pay you."

The old merc laughed in his gravelly voice. "You know what I was planning on doin' before Cerberus called me up, Shepard? I was either going to buy the farm, or buy shit-tons of explosives, and _buy the farm_. This's bin a fun ride. I got no plans'o getting' off yet."

John nodded. "thank you. Anyone else?"

"I can't speak for the rest of the crew, Commander," said Rupert Gardner, the mess sergeant, "But all my friends are either here, or in other cells. I'm with you."

There was a general murmured consensus.

"Thank you." Shepard replied gratefully. "Thank you all of you." He let out a long breath; the first hurdle had been overcome. "Now to business. The Normandy's destruction was not the only act committed by Cerberus today. They raided a hotel across the hub from here, and slaughtered a group of students, visiting from earth."

Murmurs of anger and confusion spread through the crew.

"Their intended target was the young woman sitting behind me." Shepard continued. He heard Oriana shift uncomfortably as all eyes in the room fell on her.

"No offense, but why her?" Kelly asked.

"Exactly!" Oriana agreed.

"Her name is Oriana Lawson." John answered, sparking a round of shocked looks. "I told you Cerberus was going after family members. Miranda's was first on the chopping block."

"John!" Ashley snapped. Tears were running freely down the young woman's face, and she sat shaking in her small, bleak chair, staring hollowly at Miranda.

"What about my parents?" She asked.

"Chances are they're already dead." Garrus replied.

Oriana burst into tears, sobbing loudly into the bed sheets.

"_What the hell is wrong with you_?" Ashley snapped. "_Both of you_!"

"That may have been a little bit much, Garrus. Kelly? Could you…?" Shepard gave the redhead a desperate, pleading stare. The young woman rose, and gently took Oriana into the bathroom. Ashley glared venomously at both Shepard and Garrus, and followed them. The rest of the crew had sat in perfect silence, watching the scene unfold.

Shepard cleared his throat and addressed them again, his voice which had been quiet and subdued before, grew strong and firm. "The important part, is that the attack was executed by gunships and soldiers in jetpacks. That means that Cerberus has a base somewhere on the citadel. They hit us, and we're going to hit back. Jacob, do you know where it is?"

The black man stepped forward. "I used to, Shepard." He said, "but that was a long time ago. They may have relocated."

Shepard turned to Tali. "You hacked Miranda's terminal, right?"

"Yes commander." The Quarian nodded. Shepard noted that she was nursing her left side; a rib had been cracked during their frantic life-pod escape.

"Search it." Shepard ordered. "I want any intel you can give me. I want to know where it is, how big it is, how many troops they have on staff. Entrance codes. Anything. Whatever you can find."

"I'll get right on it, Shepard." She said, moving to the back of the crowd and commandeering the work console.

"Let me know when you have something." John ordered. He stood up. "I'm going to talk to the hotel manager. See if I can't get you guys some rooms here."

* * *

"What can I do for you, Commander?" Neylanis, the hotel manager asked respectfully.

Shepard sighed heavily and took a seat opposite her. The Asari's office was located on a mezzanine overlooking the Zesmeni hotel foyer, and John found the noise of the large decorative fountain calming. "I know you already gave Miranda and myself the penthouse suite at the regular price-"

"I would gladly have given it for free, Commander Shepard." The manager told him happily. "You saved my daughter's lives that day."

John nodded. "I know. And I _hate_ asking this, but I need more."

"Ask, Shepard." The Asari said.

"See, my ship was destroyed in the docking bay… the Normandy SR-2. You can check the records, if it hasn't reached the news yet. I managed to evacuate my crew, but until we have options, they need a place to stay. "

"Your ship _exploded_?" The manager asked carefully.

"Sabotage. The day I stopped Saren Arterius, I made some very powerful enemies." Shepard said. "Just need a temproary place for thirty people to hole up and regroup. More than a few of them are already staying here anyway. I'd completely understand if you don't want to-"

"You can have the penthouse floor." Neylanis told him gently. "It is empty anyway, and has rooms to fit twenty. Some of your crew are going to have to double up."

"That's very generous of you… are you sure?"

The alien sighed. "Commander, I've been running this hotel for six hundred years. I've built up enough money to run it on empty for another three hundred. Every room rented is enough to pay the maintenance costs for two empty rooms. And my daughters lives mean more to me than the entire establishment. On top of that, the mere news that you've chosen to stay here is an endorsement enough to bring me business for years to come."

"Thank you!" Shepard shook her hand, giving the alien an exhausted smile. "Would you believe you are the first piece of good news I've had in days?"

The manager smiled. "Think nothing of it, Commander. Good luck."


	15. Chapter 15

Disclosure 15

Shepard had forwarded orders to Kelly, directing her to split the crew up and arrange their accommodations. When he came back up the elevator, he was confronted by the business end of Grunt's enormous claymore shotgun.

"Hello Shepard." The Krogan grinned, lowering the weapon.

"Security?" John asked.

"Garrus suggested it." Grunt replied. "This elevator is the only way up. He also closed all the blast shields on the windows. This floor is a fortress!"

Shepard made a private note to thank the Turian. He tapped the Krogan on the shoulder and said, "Carry on, Grunt."

* * *

When he arrived back at his suite, only Tali, Garrus, Ashley, and Oriana were still there. Miranda's sister was at the bed, staring hollowly into space. Garrus had settled himself down into one of the more comfortable chairs, and looked to be dozing off. Ashley was with Tali, sifting through Miranda's enormous database.

John walked over and took a seat on the bed beside Miranda's feet. He suddenly remembered that he was still dressed in full combat gear. He began to loosen the necessary straps and buckles, all the while watching Oriana's blank features. The girl had calmed down somewhat, and had the expression of one who has passed through the mountains of anger, grief, and confusion, and is now laying in the peaceful valleys on the other side.

"You know," she said as he carefully removed his breastplate, "I always thought it would be cool to know what she did for a living…"

"What she _does_." John replied. "She'll be alright." He gazed down affectionately at Miranda's sleeping face. "She'll be fine." He watched Oriana carefully, "But I know that she wouldn't have wanted all this to simply be piled on you the way it has. It was unfair, and I'm sorry for that. You deserved better."

Oriana snorted and looked up at him. "I somehow get the feeling I've only scratched the surface."

John nodded. "You're right."

The girl looked over at Garrus. "He said my parents were probably already dead. Ashley wouldn't let me check."

"Garrus thinks in worst case scenarios," John began.

"Why do you keep him around?"

John grinned at the dozing Turian. "He's my closest friend, my best squad mate, and quite frankly, somebody has to imagine the worst, and I can't afford to be pessimistic in front of my crew. He's also the best damned shot in the galaxy. Unfortunately he's right more often than he's wrong. But I think he's wrong here." John tried to pump as much honesty as he could into the statement. Oriana seemed to lighten slightly in response. "Your parents are probably alive, if only because Cerberus wants to find a way to use their relationship with you against Miri and I. The same goes for Danner and everyone else you're close to."

The young woman perked up slightly. It hadn't cheered her up, but at least she had something to cling to.

"That being said," John added, "Sending a message to any of them could _cause _Cerberus to go after them."

"So what am I supposed to do? Just give up on my entire life? Cut contact with everyone?"

"You should wait." Said John simply. "I'm sorry I don't have any better options for you, but at the moment I've got my own problems, and as narcissistic as this is going to sound, they are much worse than yours."

"The Reaper things?" the woman asked. "What are they?"

"You've had more than enough nightmares for one day." John said firmly. "When Miri wakes up, you can ask her about contacting your parents and at least letting them know you're alive and safe. She knows Cerberus a lot better than I do. She'll know how to work around them."

"The soldiers said she worked _for _them…"

"She did."

"She was a terrorist?" Oriana's gaze fell upon Miranda.

Shepard noted the anger and sudden uncertainty in her tone, and shook his head. "No. Cerberus aren't- _Weren't_ terrorists." he corrected himself. "That's alliance propaganda."

"You were working for them too, though."

"And for the alliance for a good ten years before that." Shepard reminded her. "Believe me, I used to feel the same way. I still wouldn't trust them, and I can't say much for some of their methods, but they certainly aren't there to stir up trouble for humanity. Not the way Terra Firma is."

"What did they do that changed your mind?" Oriana asked.

Shepard watched her for a moment, shrugging off his shoulder-guards and laying them gently beside the breastplate. He was trying to think of a way to justify Cerberus' actions to her without exposing her to the horror of the Reapers. Then he said, "Do you remember when the Alliance reported my death?"

"Yes."

"They reported the absolute truth." John winced as the distant memories flashed by. His mind pushed back the most painful of them, and replaced them with happier moments, like his experience in the engine room with Miranda. He glanced down at her and smiled slightly. "They were reporting the absolute truth. I was dead. Dead as dead can be."

Oriana stared.

"I know it sounds crazy." Shepard said patiently. He tapped Miranda's foot. "But Cerberus paid billions of credits and devoted two years to bringing me back. Your sister was placed in charge of the entire project to bring me back so I could keep on doing what I was doing before I died; fighting people like Saren and the Geth and any other threats out there."

"The Reapers, you mean." Oriana said, not quite willing to let things go. "Tell me about them."

"I'd rather not." He replied honestly.

Oriana exploded, her face contorted in anger, her hands waving erratically. "I just saw my classmates die! And now I can't talk to my parents! There's terrorists after me because of what _you _did! Because of things that have _nothing to do with me at all_! I want to know why this is happening to me! What's so fucking important about the Reapers!" she took a breath, and seemed to shrink slightly, though she was still defiant. "I deserve an explanation at least!"

"The Reapers are a race of sentient synthetics responsible for the downfall of the Protheans." Both John and Oriana looked to the side. Garrus was perched on the back of his chair, his grey eyes boring into Oriana. He continued, "There are millions of them waiting in dark space. Every fifty-thousand years, they all come out to cull and harvest their organic herds. They wiped out the Prothean civilization, and they are going to wipe out ours too, unless someone does something about it. They created this Citadel. They created the Mass Relays. And for all these thousands of years, our Galactic Civilization has been using those same tools to set ourselves up for them."

Oriana's gaze oscillated between the two of them, looking for the joke. The punchline. When it became apparent that both were dead serious, she sat back heavily, collapsing onto the floor beside the bed, her back against the alcove wall. "How long have they been there?"

"We don't know." Shepard told her.

"How many are there?"

"We don't know."

"Why do they do this?"

"We don't know."

"How many times have they done this?"

"Does it matter?" Garrus asked. "We stopped them once during the battle of the citadel."

"Saren was working for them." John elaborated. "The Citadel is actually a giant mass Relay, once designed to let the entire reaper horde through. We shut it down. Just barely."

"But that got their attention." Garrus continued. "Now they are _all _coming back the long way. Slowly but surely, and when they get here, they are going to wipe us all out. Human, Asari, Turian, Krogan, Salarian, Quarian, Geth... It doesn't matter, the entire galaxy will be at war. The entire Galaxy will lose."

"Well… what is the council doing about it?" she demanded.

"Nothing." John said, feeling his heart drop lower. "Neither is the Alliance. The fact is that only one group in the entire galaxy was willing to step up and even admit that the threat exists."

"Cerberus…"

"Exactly." John nodded. "_That's_ why they weren't terrorists. But now the Reapers have got to their leader, and I don't know how far down the ranks the corruption goes, but we can't rely on them anymore. The Council has done their best to convince the entire galaxy that I'm crazy. I have no allies anymore, Oriana." He told her simply. "Except for Miranda, Garrus, and everyone else in this room. As of now, you're the only civilian I've managed to convince. I'm actually surprised you even believe me."

"I don't want to." The girl said hollowly. Her head was hanging between her knees, her arms forming a protective cocoon while she tried to absorb the news. Garrus and John exchanged glances. The Turian said, "Sorry about what I said about your parents, by the way."

The girl started to laugh. It was a forlorn, hollow sound, intermingled with sobs.

John reached out unconsciously and slid his hand into Miranda's, hoping her grip would tighten. It didn't, but the woman seemed more serene than she had when he'd first brought her in. A small amount of color had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes weren't moving quite so wildly underneath her eyelids, making her appear to be in a deep, blissful sleep. She was improving, though he wasn't quite sure whether or not he could define exactly _how_.

"John…" another soft voice slipped past Oriana's sobs. Shepard twisted in his seat. Ashley was standing at the edge of the alcove. Her expression told him everything: _I heard it all_. She said, "We should talk."

He nodded, letting go of Miranda's hand.

* * *

She lead him quietly over to the bar, and stood behind it, leaning on the shelves. John took a seat on one of the stools and waited patiently for her to collect her thoughts. When she did speak, it was an abrupt statement, blurted out as if she were unsure what the consequences would be. "I'm sorry about what happened to Miranda."

"Thank you."

They fell into an awkward silence. John couldn't remember when it had last felt that awkward around the chief. Spectre, now, he reminded himself. Ashley had always been so easy to talk to. She was a strong, grounded woman with a sense of right and wrong and a willingness to stick to both her guns, and her opinions. During their hectic pursuit of Saren, she had been a port in the storm. A place he could pause, joke, relax, and collect himself. He had fallen in love with her. It wasn't complicated. Like everything involving Ashley, it was straight-forward and tackled head-on. Their relationship had been against regulations, but that was also an acknowledged fact. Nothing was hidden. Everything was simple.

And now all of that seemed…boring. Unfortunately, John himself had changed drastically in the past months. The two years on her part had changed her as well, but he had grown used to complicated. He had grown used to secrets and distrust. Miranda had been, still was, and would always be, a challenge. She was intriguing. A continuous puzzle to be unlocked and explored. John had found that he immensely enjoyed skirting the edges, pushing the boundaries. _Especially _in the beginning, when he wasn't even sure she wasn't playing him on behalf of Cerberus. She had possessed an edge he had never encountered before, and it had drawn him in and trapped him. He had gotten lost in her beauty and mystique, and after wading blindly and happily through it, he had finally found the woman underneath. He loved Miranda Lawson. He knew that for a fact as well.

Ashley seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "John, about us…"

"I'm done with you." He told her immediately. There was nothing angry in his tone. Nothing berating. No gloating at all. Just a simple statement of fact.

"I figured." She replied.

"But I'm not too keen on being enemies either."

"Friends, then?" she asked.

"Friends." He agreed.

They both felt it, the dam breaking. Suddenly things were back to normal, somehow. Different, but the tension was gone. The anger was gone. Just relief remained, and a feeling of clear air.

"I gotta say, she's a much better fit." Ash smiled slightly. "For the Human Ideal."

"Oh, Christ…" John muttered, smacking his forehead with his palm.

Ash grinned, having found a crack in his armour. "From what Jacob said, she was after the title herself."

"Yeah well, she took second place." He poured them both a strong drink. "It was a source of serious tension for a while."

"Okay, I gotta ask." Ashley reached around the short bar and pulled up a stool herself. Her voice was playful, reminiscent of the old banter. "Was it the looks?"

"How do you expect me to answer that?" John demanded, sinking back into his SR-1 self for a moment.

"Honestly."

"Fine! Yes, the looks played a part." John admitted.

"Ha! Shallow as ever!" Ash grinned triumphantly, downing her shot glass in one gulp.

"It was the attitude as well." John added, feeling obliged to defend himself. "Everyone was going 'Ohh, Commander Shepard, you're our only hope!' and Miranda was the only one to treat me like a second class citizen."

They fell into another silence, this one much more comfortable. After a few moments, Ashley chuckled. She nodded at the alcove. "You know, that was the first time I actually got to hear your side of the story. And you weren't even telling it to _me_. It kinda makes what I said on Horizon sound bitchy."

John chuckled. "You did sound like a bitch. You know, it had been two years for you. Only a month or two for me. It made the traitor moment hit me all the harder…"

"Sorry about that."

John shrugged. "I got over it."

Ashley nodded at Oriana. "She reminds me a lot of Sarah."

John glanced at the girl, then back at the Spectre. "Yeah?"

"Shepard!" Tali said loudly. The young Quarian woman had been diligently sifting through the copious amounts of data, and she appeared to have reached her goal. "Shepard I found it! The Bosh'tets have a warehouse in Zakera ward!"

"Which warehouse?" Garrus demanded sharply, striding across the wide expanse of carpet to look at Tali's console.

"Nowhere near Fade…" He observed, loud enough for the others to hear him. "It's near the opposite end of the ward. About as far from the Hub as we can get. C-sec doesn't' bother much with the ends of the ward-arms."

John rose and gave Tali an appreciative pat on the shoulder. "I knew you wouldn't let us down, Tali. Thank you."

"You're welcome." The woman said dryly. "Can I go talk to Chakwas, now? I only have a broken rib, after all."

John sheepishly removed his hand. "Right… sorry."

"Never mind." Tali rose and limped for the door. "Just make sure you blow them up when you get there. I spent too much time working on that ship _not _to see them pay…" She reverted to her native tongue, uttering a series of uncouth syllables which made Shepard glad he didn't speak Quarian.

* * *

**Alright, so that was a quick update. I wanted to cover just a little more characterization before I got back to the action. I wanted to capture the difference between the Ashley and Miranda romance options, and why Shepard would go more for Miranda. I don't know how many people romanced both, but I know why **_**I**_** did. I'm not sure if I **_**nailed**_** it, but I got pretty close.**

**I wanted to pay just a little more respect to Tali. I know she hasn't gotten much facetime in this story, but she still played a vital role, which is more than can be said of Jack.**

**Also, Oriana's revelations were fun to write, but nothing we haven't seen before. I know it's boring, but it had to go in. Next chapter should be prep and maybe the first part of the battle. **

**Stick with it. Things are about to get more interesting.**


End file.
